Western Skies
by Blufle
Summary: He gently closed his own eyes for a second or two, wondering if his uncle was dreaming about the past, a past that was destined to remain hidden from Zuko within the fading memories of the Dragon of the West.
1. Chapter 1

**Oh my goodness! -punishes self- I told myself I wouldn't start another story until I was done with at least ONE of the three I've started! But the plot bunnies took over, and ... well, it resulted in this. (I have a feeling this is going to be a long author's note.)**

**First of all, I'd like to say that I already have six chapters of this typed up. Yes, I got an idea, and I ran away with it. I'm not sure how many more chapters it will end up being, but I'd like to finish it as soon as possible so it won't interfere too much with the other fics I'm currently writing. Despite having this many chapters already ready, I won't update once everyday. Maybe more like once every three or four days. Maybe even a week. I'd like to try and get as many reviews for each chapter as I can so that I know what you guys think of it. **

**Secondly, whenever a portion of a chapter starts out with the first letter of the first word bolded and italicized, like this -- _I_**roh -- **that means that it's the beginning of a flashback (or dream, or memory) of Iroh's. I don't really have a way of subtly reminding the reader that the flashback has ended, but it's pretty easily recognized, so I'm not worrying about it. **

**And finally, this story (at least, the parts that aren't flashbacks) take place 15 years after the current episodes. Since we don't know Iroh's exact age then, I just assumed he was 60 and worked from that. **

**Note: For now the rating is T. Although I do not think it will ever need to rise to M, be warned that later chapters might be a very _strong_ T. I'll warn you at the beginning if the need arises. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender or any of the characters in the series. **

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**Western Skies** - _He gently closed his own eyes for a second or two, wondering if his uncle was dreaming about the past, a past that was destined to remain hidden from Zuko within the fading memories of the Dragon of the West. _

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_**Chapter One**_

"Where is he? How is he doing?" Three men walked down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. One of them was dressed in the finest regal clothes, but as fine as his robes were, his expression was that of one who was anxious and worried. His forehead wrinkled with concern, and the sides of his mouth were turned down to form a nervous frown.

One of the other two men, both of whom were dressed in guard's uniforms, answered the first man's question. "He's in the infirmary. He's doing relatively well … a little weak, but he can speak and his wit seems to still be about him."

"That's good," answered the worried one, his voice softening and the expression on his face losing its hard edge ever so slightly. The rest of the walk was completed in silence, save for the echo of three pairs of feet as they hit the cold, stone floor. With every step taken, words seemed to flow through the virtually empty corridors, ringing out phrases of encouragement … _okay-okay-okay-he's-going-to-be-okay …_

When the three men finally arrived at the door to the infirmary, the two guards slowly opened it to let the first man in. What met his eyes was not very comforting; a doctor was bending over an old man, inspecting his chest while the elder lay still as death.

"Is he … ?" the royally dressed man asked, barely daring to finish the sentence. He could already feel the threat of tears as they began to well up in his golden brown eyes. He willfully suppressed them, though, as he took a few steps closer.

"He's sleeping," the doctor replied, turning around to look the other man in the face. "You can stay in here if you wish … just stay quiet, and don't wake him up. Let him rest."

"Of course," the man said, nodding a little bit. The doctor picked up his bag filled with various instruments and medications, and headed towards the door. He stopped short for a second, turning around again to give some final directions.

"Call me immediately if anything out of the ordinary happens, such as labored breathing, a change in skin tone, or irregular pulse or heartbeat. I'll be back to check in on him in about an hour." With that, the doctor left the infirmary, and the two guards that had previously accompanied the other man to the room left as well. The door was left open a slight crack, so the man stood up to go and close it completely. As the wooden door closed with a _click_, the old man lying on the infirmary bed moved slightly, then opened his eyes.

"Uncle!" the younger man said, whipping his head around when he heard the old man moving. "Did I wake you up? Go back to sleep," he said almost demandingly as he rushed back to the bedside. Hesitatingly, he put a hand on his uncle's forehead. It felt a little warm, but that was not an unusual circumstance among Firebenders. He pulled his hand back to his side as his uncle started talking.

"Prince Zuko…" the old man spoke quietly. His voice sounded years older than it had but a few days ago. "You came to see me."

"It's _Fire Lord _Zuko, Uncle," he answered worriedly. His uncle hadn't called him Prince, for he hadn't been so, for many years. "Remember? My father, your brother, died a long time ago. I'm the Fire Lord now."

The old man smiled a distant smile, as if he was remembering a sweet memory from the younger years in his life. "Ah, Ozai. He always was an ambitious one. Cute when he was younger, but … that didn't last too long." His smile turned into a slight frown, and he looked Zuko in the eyes questioningly. "Where is my brother? And Ursa? I think it's their anniversary soon. I need to get them a present."

"You aren't listening to me, Uncle …" The Fire Lord said as calmly as he could without breaking down. "They're _dead_. Both of them. They've been gone for a very long time." Sighing, Zuko decided to guide the subject onto something more cheerful. "Would you like me to get you some tea?"

The old man's eyes lit up at the mention of tea, and he smiled while replying, "Tea would be wonderful."

"Okay," Zuko said, standing up from his previously kneeling position. "I'll tell the chef to make some Jasmine Tea. I'm coming right back." He started to walk away, but not before pulling up a chair next to his uncle's bed so he would have somewhere to sit when he came back.

"Wait, Prince Zuko," his uncle said, and the Fire Lord stopped in his tracks, not even attempting to correct the old man this time. "Just bring the pot, water, and jasmine. I'll make the tea myself."

"Okay," Zuko said, trying to hide a smile. He should have known that his uncle would only drink the tea if it was made his way. And the Fire Lord couldn't deny that his Uncle's tea _was_ the best he'd ever tasted.

A few minutes later, Fire Lord Zuko returned from his visit with the chef to find his uncle sitting up in his bed, resting on several pillows. He set up a tray on his Uncle's lap and let the old man do the rest. Zuko watched in admiration as his Uncle created a small flame to heat the water with, his hands moving swiftly and steadily, as they should move after doing the process countless times throughout the years.

Neither one of them spoke the entire time, and when his uncle was finished, Zuko gratefully accepted the cup the old man poured for him. Iroh took the other cup he made for himself and started to sip, satisfied with the way it turned out.

"It's a shame your sister Azula doesn't like tea. I think it would do her a world of good," his uncle commented after taking a sip. Zuko cringed at the words, deciding not to try and explain his sister's fate after the Fire Nation lost the war. Clearly his sudden heart failure had also done something to his memory, and the Fire Lord found it useless to try and explain to his uncle that what he thought was the present really happened fifteen years ago.

After finishing their tea, and having a few exchanges in conversation, Iroh set his cup and the other tea related articles on the table beside his bed. Laying down, he closed his eyes for a second, and then opened them back up to say, "I'm getting tired, Prince Zuko. I think I'm going to take a quick nap … you and your hunt for the Avatar has worn me out." He closed his eyes and proceeded to fall asleep.

Zuko stood up and paced the floor, his shoes making a soft scuffling noise with every stride he took. His uncle's memory seemed to be relapsing even more. Zuko had given up his quest for the Avatar even before his father died and the war was lost. If his memory kept fading like this, there was no way he could survive much longer after total degeneration. The Fire Lord stopped his hurried pacing long enough to glance at his uncle as he lay in peaceful sleep. His face crumpled up at the thought of losing him, the man who'd been more like a father to him when his real father seemed incapable of loving. The Fire Lord let a single tear fall from his eye, the eye that had not been damaged by his father's flames in the Agni Kai so many years ago. It hit the floor, making virtually no noise, but left a small wet symbol on the stone right next to Zuko's foot. He took a seat next to the bedside in the chair he had pulled up, thinking quietly to himself until his uncle should wake up again.

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As promised, one hour later the doctor returned to the infirmary, gently knocking on the door before entering. When he heard the Fire Lord's hoarse voice allowing him to come in, he opened the door and walked over to where Iroh still lay sleeping on the bed, setting his bag down on the ground next to him.

"Has he woken up yet?" the doctor asked.

"He did for about fifteen minutes after you left," Zuko replied, not taking his eyes off his uncle's sleeping form. "But he fell back asleep and hasn't woken up since."

"How was he when he was awake?"

"He could still talk … and make tea." Zuko said monotonically, though he fought back a smile.

"He seemed fine, though, right?" the doctor said, starting to pick up his bag and head back out. But Zuko's answer caused him to place the bag back on the floor and stay for a bit longer.

"Actually, his memory seems to be fading. He talked about people who've been dead for a long time …" Fire Lord Zuko's voice quieted considerably as he continued. "… talking about them as if they were still alive. And things that happened a long time ago as if they were happening right now."

The doctor's expression darkened slightly, and he breathed in deeply. "This isn't unusual among patients who've suffered some type of heart failure in one way or another. There's nothing anyone can do about it, really."

"So … what's going to happen to him, then?" Zuko asked, although he had a feeling he already knew what the answer was.

"After memory relapse, the patient usually … passes away after, well, at most, a week." The doctor picked up his bag and made as if to leave the room again, but not before saying, "There isn't much you can do, Fire Lord Zuko, except humor him. Don't confuse him by telling him what he thinks is true really isn't."

"I understand," Zuko answered, not once turning his head to focus his gaze on the doctor. The man lingered for a second longer, and then the echo of his shoes against the stone floor was heard after the _click _of the door closing behind him.

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The Fire Lord wasn't sure how much time has passed when his uncle finally opened his eyes again. Zuko had fallen asleep a couple times himself, nodding off in the chair, but always waking up a couple minutes later when his alert mind told him he needed to keep an eye on his Uncle Iroh.

"Uncle?" Zuko said after the old man opened his eyes. He stayed silent for a second, not responding to his nephew. When he did speak, Zuko could only stare back in confusion.

"Where is she?" he asked. The Fire Lord didn't know who he was talking about.

"Do you mean … Ursa? Or Azula?" Zuko asked, praying with all his might that Iroh wouldn't ask to see either of them, because he couldn't think of how to tell him there was no way he was going to see his niece or sister-in-law.

"No," Iroh said, shaking his head. He paused, as if trying to remember the girl's name. Zuko could tell he knew who he wanted to see, but her name was evading his mind. "Her," he said, looking for a name. His expression softened. Closing his eyes with contentment, for he had suddenly remembered the name, he spoke softly. "Maylin."

"Maylin?" Zuko questioned. The name seemed familiar, but he couldn't remember who Maylin was. There was no image he could conjure up from his memories that matched the name. "Maylin, Maylin …" he said, turning the name around in his mouth. He started to worry about his own memory, wondering why in the world the name seemed so familiar but there was no one he could think of that went by that name.

"Where is she?" Iroh repeated.

"She's um …" Zuko paused, wondering what to say. He remembered how the doctor advised to humor his uncle; let him think that everyone who was really dead was alive. Let him think that the past was the present. "She's here somewhere," Zuko said, faltering a bit. "She's in the garden, I think." He felt awful lying to his uncle, but it had to be done. He desperately racked his mind, trying to recall who Maylin was. Where had he heard that name?

"I want to see her," his Uncle said, Zuko cringing at the words. "Can you go get for her me, please?" Iroh turned his head and looked longingly out the window that stood to his right.

"Are you tired?" Zuko said, trying to change the subject. "Why don't you go to sleep, and while you are asleep, I'll try to find Maylin for you."

Iroh sighed deeply, turning back to look at Zuko. "Okay. But be quick, Ozai. I want to see her."

The words Zuko was about to speak remained stuck in his throat. He choked back tears as he stood up from his seat. "Okay," he managed to say, turning to quickly walk out of the room. He didn't want his uncle to see him cry. Had his memory faded so much that he even forgot his beloved nephew?

Zuko's steps hastened as he headed toward the archives, exact opposite to the direction the garden lay in. Not even bothering to state his business to the guards that stood in front of the old, oaken door, he walked right in, the guards not having the power to do anything as he was the Fire Lord.

Zuko closed the large door behind him, and his senses filled with the old, musty smell of parchment that had been sitting in the same position for several years. He shivered slightly, noting that the temperature was cooler in here than the rest of the palace, because it helped to preserve the old documents. Heading toward the far end of the room, he picked up the most recent scroll and started reading at the beginning.

_Thus was Zuko, son of Ozai, banished from the Fire Nation in the year … _

Zuko shuddered and stopped reading. This scroll was too recent. However he didn't discard it right away, glancing at the later entries recorded, which included the defeat of Fire Lord Ozai and the end of the war. Azula's fate was recorded on that scroll as well, but Zuko declined from reading it. Picking up the scroll just before that, he started reading that one as well.

_The following is an account of important events having taken place during Fire Lord Azulon's reign. A brief genealogy will prelude the documented events. Azulon, Fire Lord for twenty-three years, married to Ilah. Father of Iroh, married to Maylin. Father of Ozai, married to Ursa. Grandfather of Lu Ten …_

Zuko stopped reading. Maylin was Iroh's wife; that's why her name seemed so familiar. She was his aunt. But why, then, did his memories not include a face to match Maylin's name? His eyes scanned over the rest of the scroll, looking for an entry that included Maylin. His gaze rested upon a small paragraph recorded near the middle of the scroll.

_Maylin, wife of Iroh, son of Fire Lord Azulon, died on the 3rd of January at thirty-three years of age. She left behind husband Iroh, age thirty-five, son Lu Ten, age two, and brother-in-law Ozai, age twenty. _

The next entry was the one that recorded Ozai's wedding to Ursa. So that's why Zuko hadn't known anything about Maylin. She had died before Zuko was even born. He skimmed over the rest of the long scroll, hoping to find an entry that mentioned the cause of Maylin's death, but he found nothing. Placing the old scrolls back in their spots on the shelf, he picked himself up and walked back to the infirmary, wondering what he would tell his uncle as an excuse for his wife's absence.

He was given a chance to think, though, when he arrived back at the infirmary; Iroh was asleep once again. Zuko took his seat next to his uncle's bed and stared wistfully at his sleeping figure.

"If only your memory wasn't fading …" Zuko said, barely daring to speak above a whisper. "I would have liked to hear stories about my Aunt Maylin." Iroh turned over in his sleep, but did not awaken. Zuko sat back in his seat, preparing himself for another hour or two of silent thinking. He gently closed his own eyes for a second or two, wondering if his uncle was dreaming about the past, a past that was destined to remain hidden from Zuko within the fading memories of the Dragon of the West.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter two. I know I updated really fast but it's because I finished typing this entire fic (what can I say, I wanted to finish writing it before I lost the inspiration). It's fourteen chapters long, fifteen if you count the epilogue (which is shorter than a regular chapter length) and I don't know how often I'll update. I'll only wait one week at most in between updates, though. This entire chapter is a flashback. Later chapters might be part-flashback, part-present time, but it's not too hard to tell the difference so it shouldn't be an issue. **

**Oh yes, and, this entire fic was inspired by the amazing pictures that Isaia does of young Iroh on deviantart. Especially this certain one ... but you should just check it out for yourself. And, inspiration also came from this one question I asked myself -- how come you never hear anything about Iroh's wife? Well, read on, dear reader, read on. **

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_**Chapter Two**_

"**_C_**ome now, Iroh," Ilah said soothingly to her son, trying to coax him into drinking the concoction that sat in the porcelain cup in front of him. "It's good for you when you're sick. And it tastes good, too."

"It looks bad," a six-year-old Iroh replied, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he eyed the dark brown liquid. He cautiously leaned forward, sniffing the drink. "Blech!" he said, sticking his tongue out for emphasis. "It even _smells _bad."

"How would you know?" Ilah said with a slight smile on her face. "Your nose is all stuffed up from that cold. You can't smell anything."

The young boy sniffled indignantly. "I can smell just fine." He responded, sticking his nose in the air and closing his eyes.

"Then what is the chef making for dinner? Can you smell it?" Ilah said mischievously, smiling lovingly at her only son.

"He's uh … making … " Iroh opened one eye and unfolded his arms that were previously positioned across his chest. After realizing that he couldn't smell the food being prepared, he turned to his mother with a completely serious face.

"He's making _food_, of course. What else do you eat for dinner?"

Much to Iroh's surprise, Ilah burst out laughing and hugged her son around his waist, as awkward as that was to do while he was sitting in a large, wooden chair. "You have a sharp tongue, Iroh." she said to him after her fit of laughter ended. Iroh just stared back, having no idea what she meant by that. He stuck his tongue out as far as it would go, trying to see if it looked sharp like his mother had described it. She ignored his antics and continued talking. "You better watch yourself, young man. That tongue may get you into trouble one day."

"Trouble? How does a tongue get you into trouble?" Iroh said with a skeptic look on his face and a disbelieving tone in his voice.

"Just watch what you say, dear," Ilah responded. "Your words can either hurt or help. Try your best to make your words _help _rather than _hurt_."

"Help or hurt …" Iroh mused, his face molded into the very picture of concentration.

"You know what I think would help right now?" Ilah said, looking deep into her son's eyes.

"Words?" he guessed, thinking that this discussion still had to do with the lesson his mother was trying to teach him.

"No, silly," Ilah said with an amused tone. "This tea." She picked up the porcelain cup that had been sitting on the table in front of young Iroh. She held it in front of his face, its steam enveloping his head and filling his senses. Since she was holding it so close to him, and the scent was so strong, he was actually able to smell a little bit of it. He squinted his eyes in thought. Maybe it didn't smell so bad after all.

"Come now, drink up," Ilah encouraged, holding the edge of the cup against his lips. "It will do wonders for your cold." Iroh hesitated, threatening to back away, as he was reluctant to try this new drink.

"You better drink it before it gets cold," Ilah warned. "Then it really will taste bad."

"I can just firebend, then, mother," Iroh said happily. "That'll make it warm again."

"No, dear," Ilah said seriously. "I only want you to firebend when you're having lessons. If you try to do it any other time, you might hurt yourself. Only when you're older will I allow you to bend unsupervised."

Iroh crumpled his face into a frown. "Fine," he muttered. He looked at the tea that his mother was still holding close to his face. Knowing that she would somehow win the argument in the end anyway, he decided to get it over with, and he opened his mouth.

"Good," Ilah said warmly when she saw that Iroh had surrendered and was willing to drink. She tipped the cup and let the warm liquid pour into his mouth. "How is it, now?" She said after letting him taste the sip. "Do you like it?"

"Mm," Iroh cooed, smacking his lips. "It's good, mother. I want another sip."

"I had a feeling you'd like it," she said knowingly, tipping the cup to give him some more. After he drank a considerable amount, she gave the cup to him to hold.

"Here," she said as he took the cup in his own hands. "Be careful not to spill it, your clothes will be ruined. And don't drop it either, or the cup will break." She paused, watching him carefully sip the steaming brew.

"Do you know what it's called, Iroh?" she asked.

He looked at her questioningly. "Tea?"

"Well, yes," she said. "But it's called _Jasmine _Tea. If you ever want a cup, you can just go to the chef and ask him to make it for you. Okay?"

"Okay," he said, most of his attention fixed on the cup he held in his hands. "Jasmine Tea."

"That's right," Ilah said reassuringly. "I'm going to go out to the garden now, dear. You can come join me if you like, once you're done your tea."

"You mean, _Jasmine _Tea," he said, getting ready to take another sip.

"Of course," she said smiling. With that, she exited the large dining hall, glancing back to look at the tiny figure of her son sitting at the large table, sipping a cup of Jasmine Tea. She smiled lovingly, wondering if it ever once crossed her son's carefree mind that one day, he would become the Fire Lord. She turned and started walking towards the garden, hoping that day would not come soon. He was still just a child, after all. He needed to enjoy childhood while he still had it.

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A very full Iroh pushed the large, almost empty cup away from in front of him as he sat back in his chair. The tea had tasted very good, but he had had enough for now, and he swung his legs to the side of the chair and hopped off. He hit the floor with a _thud_, and wobbled a bit before steadying himself. With a hand to his stomach, he moaned. "Uhhhnnn," he said exaggeratedly. "My tummy feels so big and full!" After having said that, he pushed the chair in closer to the table, and headed for the dining hall's exit. Remembering what his mother said about meeting her in the garden, he took a left after leaving the dining hall, and headed outside.

The sun shone brightly that day, and warmed his fair skin, causing it to tingle. He giggled with delight, the discomfort from being so full forgotten for the time being. He raced across the grass, feeling each individual blade with his bare feet and readying himself to do a cartwheel. He stopped short though, when he looked up and saw his mother talking with someone under the sanctuary of a tree in their garden.

He observed the woman his mother was talking to, taking in her delicate features and soft but still dark brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders in a most elegant fashion. His gaze lowered to the little figure sitting against the woman's legs. It was a little girl with equally pretty hair tied back in a bun with a few loose strands framing her face. She sat cross legged, her back resting against her mother's shin that was covered by her flowing robes. Iroh noticed the little girl was whimpering and looked as if she was about to cry. He marched over to where the three of them were, ignoring his mother and the woman she was talking to, focusing his attention on the little girl.

He squatted down and looked at her, and she stared back at him with big, brown eyes, sniffling every once in a while. When she didn't say anything, he plopped himself down next to her and said, "Why are you crying?"

She held up her hands for him to see. Her two pointer fingers were connected by a small tube that looked like it was woven by straw. "My fingers are stuck," she said in a soft voice.

"Just pull them apart, like this," he said, grabbing her wrists, one in each hand, and pulling apart. As hard as he tugged, and as much as she protested, nothing happened. Her fingers wouldn't budge.

"I tried that," she said. "Nothing works."

Young Iroh put his hand to his mouth. "Hmm," he said, deep in thought. "I know!" he said brightening up when the idea hit him. "I'll just cut it with my sharp tongue!" He stuck his tongue out and leaned toward the little girl.

"Eeww!" she shrieked, leaning back so far that she fell. "Stop!"

"Iroh!" the young boy heard his mother chastise him. "What are you doing?" He looked up at her face; it held a stern expression that demanded an answer.

"I was just trying to help," he said. "She has something stuck on her fingers."

The woman, whom Iroh assumed was the little girl's mother, looked down and helped her child up. "Oh, dear," she said, a slight frown coming across her face. She pushed the little girl's fingers together, and the straw tube popped off. Iroh watched with fascination as the mother took the small device and hid it within the folds of her robes. "Did Zhou Han put this on your finger, honey?"

The little girl nodded, not making any noise. She had stopped crying at this point. Her mother straightened herself and looked at Ilah. "Her brother got that for his birthday a couple days ago. He loves to torture her by putting it on her fingers. I tried to tell him to stop, but …" she took a quick glance at Iroh. " … you know how little boys are."

Ilah laughed. "Yes, I know how little boys can be," she said, focusing her gaze on Iroh. "They can be quite stubborn at times, can't they, Iroh?"

Iroh stared at his mother, confused. A second later, the woman started talking. "Oh, this is Iroh?" she squealed delightedly. "I hadn't even recognized him! You've grown so much!" she walked over to where the little boy stood and put her hands down by her knees. "Last time I saw you, you were only this high!"

Iroh stared at the woman for a second, and then spoke. "You must be wrong, lady," he said. "I don't ever remember being _that _short."

"Iroh!" Ilah said with a sharp tone in her voice. "Remember what I said about words hurting? I'm sorry, Zhen."

But the woman just laughed. "It's okay, Ilah," she said. "Like I said before, I know how little boys can be." Zhen turned to Iroh and said, "You probably don't remember me, or my daughter. Come on now, dear. Stand up."

The little girl stood up and took a few steps in Iroh's direction. The two stared at each other, waiting for the other one, or one of their mothers, to say something.

"Why don't you two play together?" Ilah finally said. "Iroh, take her down to the pond and show her the turtle-ducks. It'll be fun."

Iroh looked at the little girl. "Wanna go see the turtle-ducks?" he asked nonchalantly. The little girl only nodded in response. The two tiny figures started making their way across the garden, to the other side where the turtle-duck pond lay. Their mothers watched lovingly as their children waddled along, turning back to talk to each other only after making sure they reached the pond safely.

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"Do you have a turtle-duck pond at your house?" Iroh asked in order to break the awkward silence that ensued between the two of them after they sat at the water's edge. The girl only shook her head. He stared back at her, wondering why she didn't talk that much.

"What's your name?" he asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Maylin," she said shyly, not taking her gaze off the ripples in the pond.

"I'm Iroh," he said proudly. "And I'm six years old. How old are you?"

"Four," she responded, turning to look at him for the first time.

"Hey, I used to be four years old!" He said excitedly. She giggled, covering her mouth with her chubby hands.

"Everybody was four when they were little," she said knowledgably.

"You know, I think you're right," he said. He looked out at the turtle-duck pond. He'd been here plenty of times, and it was starting to get boring. Not even watching the little turtle-ducks play in the water was amusing. He stood up and grabbed her hand, forcing her to stand up as well.

"Come on, Maylin," he said, trying out her name as he started to run. "Let's go to the chef. He can make us some Jasmine Tea!"

"Iroh …" she said, sounding a little scared as the two dashed across the grass. "Slow down!"


	3. Chapter 3

**It's been three days ... and since I already have this all typed up, I figured I'd post another chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and even those that didn't review but still read the story. Hope everyone had a Merry Christmas (or Happy Holiday if you don't celebrate it). Enjoy this chapter! **

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_**Chapter Three**_

"What do you think I should do?" Zuko asked as he eyed his sleeping uncle. The doctor had come back in after an hour to make sure Iroh was alright. He sighed, pondering the very same question in his own mind before answering the Fire Lord.

"You told him his wife was in the garden, am I right?" he asked. Zuko nodded in response. "Then I suggest when he wakes up, simply say that Maylin has gone to the market and he can't see her just yet." The doctor shook his head in pity. "I'm not sure what you'll be able to say tomorrow, though. Obviously you can't keep using the same excuse every time."

"I know," Zuko replied.

"Do you know anything about Maylin that you could utilize as a believable excuse for her absence?" the doctor asked. "For instance, did she like to travel? If so, you could say she went traveling with her friends for a few days."

Zuko shook his head as he spoke. "I don't know anything about my aunt. She died before my parents even got married." The doctor opened his mouth to speak, but Zuko interrupted, answering his unspoken question. "I already checked the archives. They don't give any information about her, except how old she was when she died."

"How old was she?" the doctor asked out of curiosity.

"Thirty-three," Zuko answered, his voice keeping the same tone it always had. It didn't bother him that the doctor had asked such an extraneous question.

"They had a son, didn't they?" the doctor questioned, obviously somewhat learned in the history of the Royal Family. "Lu Ten, was it?"

"Yes. He was my cousin," Zuko answered.

"Then maybe she died of birth complications." The doctor suggested.

"No," Zuko answered. "The scrolls in the archives said Lu Ten was two years old when she died. And Uncle was thirty-five."

The doctor shook his head. "Such a shame to lose a loved one so early in life," he said. "And then he lost his son years later at the Battle of Ba Sing Se. I'm surprised his mental and emotional health stayed relatively stable after such grievous events."

Zuko merely glanced at the doctor, giving him a look. He returned his gaze to his Uncle Iroh, already knowing how it was he managed to recover after such losses. _He had me_ … his conscience told him, though he refused to say that out loud to the doctor.

"Have you tried asking anybody else here in the palace about your aunt?" the doctor said, returning the subject to that of Maylin. "Maybe someone who has been working here long enough knows something."

"They would have to have worked here for over …" Zuko paused, doing the math in his head. "… sixty years or so. I don't think anyone has been around that long."

"Not even the old chef?" the doctor asked, trying to help.

Zuko thought in silence for a second, wondering how old the chef was. "No …" he said, though he was unsure of his answer. "I believe he's only sixty years old. That's not old enough to have been working here that long."

"Well," the doctor said, standing up and taking the bag he always had with him. "I don't know what it would do for your uncle, but it seems you have a little mystery on your hands." The doctor started to walk out the door, but Zuko turned and looked at him questioningly. The doctor answered his gaze. "You know, your aunt has been dead for over forty years. There's probably not many people still alive that remember much of anything about her. But," he said pausing. "the one man who knew her best is lying in that bed right there."

"…And his memory is failing." Zuko said, piecing the puzzle together in his mind. "And the archives didn't provide many details at all."

"Exactly," the doctor said. "So, her life and death may be buried forever in that man's mind." He said, pointing at Iroh. "I'd love to help you solve the mystery, Fire Lord Zuko," the man paused, running his hand through his hair in a most nervous sort of way. "But I wouldn't know where to begin, myself." He turned to leave the room, but once again stopped himself, starting to talk to Zuko again. "And please, as much as you'd like to find out about her, don't ask your uncle how she died. Remember, he thinks she's still alive."

Zuko nodded in response, and the doctor left the room. He turned back to look at his uncle, tears welling up in his eyes. He imagined what it must have been like for Iroh to lose the love of his life, and then years later the one person he still had that was connected to her in some way; Lu Ten. He then continued to wonder why his parents, or Iroh for that matter, never talked about Maylin that much. They didn't even have a portrait of her that Zuko knew of.

The Fire Lord stared at his uncle, wondering when he would wake up next. In a way, Zuko wished he wouldn't wake up, because then he wouldn't have to break his heart by telling him he couldn't see his wife. Not yet, at least. Zuko folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes in thought. "What are you dreaming about, Uncle?" he asked, wishing he could jump into Iroh's memories and find out for himself.

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**_I_**roh was panting with childish delight as he and Maylin dashed across the lawn, practically tripping over their own feet. Clutching their treasure in their hands, they continued running with renewed vigor after hearing the yells coming from the angry chef.

"You kids get back here! I don't care if you're the Fire Lord's son, Iroh! Give it back now! Don't make me come looking for you!" Iroh turned back for but a second to glance at the large, angry man as he emerged from the kitchen and waved his large butcher knife in the children's direction. Fear caused his heart to skip a few beats, and he grabbed Maylin's wrist.

"Faster!" he said hurriedly as he willed his legs to move more than they had been before, if it was even possible.

"Iroh," Maylin said, her voice revealing that she was out of breath. "My legs don't move any faster!"

"Just a little bit … farther …" Iroh said, his own voice starting to sound winded. When they approached the large stone wall that bordered the garden, Iroh ducked behind it, pulling Maylin down with him. The two children sat on the ground, panting as perspiration formed little beads on their foreheads. After catching their breath for a few minutes, Iroh poured his treasure out of the protection of his shirt and watched it fall onto the ground.

"How many did you get?" he asked, still panting a little bit.

Maylin emptied her hands to reveal only slightly less than Iroh had gathered. The two put their fortune into one big stockpile, and started eating right away, Iroh stuffing three of the scrumptious desserts into his mouth at once.

"Iroh!" Maylin said as she daintily bit out of one. "Don't put so much into your mouth at once. You won't even be able to taste it."

"So?" Iroh said, shrugging. "We have to get rid of the evidence as soon as possible! That old chef is gonna come out here and butcher us both!"

The mature seven-year-old looked at her friend, who, even though he was nine years old already, sometimes acted like he was still five. "I don't think he's going to _butcher_ us, Iroh!" she said rationally. "He may be old and bitter, but he wouldn't hurt a spider-fly."

Iroh glared at her after swallowing the large amount of food he had in his mouth. "You just kill the fun in everything, don't you?"

Maylin glared back with a stare that equaled Iroh's. "Do not."

"Yes you do!"

"No I don't!"

"_Yes _you do!"

"You shut your mouth, Iroh!" she said loudly, picking up a delicate dessert and forcing it into his mouth. Iroh refused to chew the food, crossing his arms in indignation as the two proceeded to have an unannounced staring contest. Maylin glared at him, raising one eyebrow to make the stare even more intimidating. But she couldn't help herself. The sight of Iroh with cream oozing out of his mouth was too much to bear. She burst out laughing after trying to contain the spell of the giggles.

"What's your problem?" Iroh said.

"Look at yourself!" she said in between giggles. "You've got … cream coming out of the corners of your mouth! You look like a rabid squirrel-dog!" Her last observation caused her to collapse in a fit of laughter, unable to stop herself for the next five minutes at least.

Iroh just stared at her as she smiled, and couldn't help but notice the way her genuine laugh revealed her toothy smile, and the tiny space she had in between her two front teeth on the top. He wiped the cream off his face and gave in to chewing the food Maylin had forced into his mouth, swallowing it with an exaggerated gulp. After a couple of seconds, he opened his mouth and let out a huge burp.

"Ew!" Maylin said, her laughter suddenly dying. "You're disgusting!"

Iroh was unmoved by her comment. He went back to eating some of the delicious desserts, and Maylin stood up in an attempt to see over the top of the stone wall. He looked up when he noticed she was struggling to jump high enough in order to look over the edge. Standing up, he said, "Move aside. I'll look over the edge."

He stood on his toes, but still couldn't see over the edge of the stones. He jumped, just barely making it any higher than she had.

She smiled. "I don't think you'll be able to do it. You're only an inch or two taller than me."

He stopped jumping and turned to look at her, crossing his arms and squinting his eyes dangerously. "Thanks for reminding me how _short _I am!" When she said, "You're welcome," he only stared at her, saying, "I was being sarcastic."

"I know," she said teasingly. "So was I." She grabbed his hand and pulled him to where the stone wall began in the first place, leaving the treats behind. "Let's just look around the side, since neither of us are tall enough to look over the top."

The two of them looked cautiously around the side of the stone wall, both of them wondering what their eyes would come to meet. But it was nothing unusual. They saw the trees, the grass, and the tiny turtle-duck pond. They were both looking for the angry chef, though, but he was nowhere to be found. "I think it's safe," Iroh said. "Come on, let's go." He started to walk out from behind the wall, but Maylin stayed behind.

"What are you waiting for?" he said, going back and grabbing her wrist. "Come on!"

"We're just going to leave the food there?" she asked. "After all the trouble we went through to steal it?"

"Um, yeah?" Iroh said, shrugging. "It's okay. Maybe some kind of bird will eat them."

"Well, shouldn't we at least clean them up?"

"Maylin!" he said, exasperated. "It's okay, I'm telling you!" He dragged her out from behind the wall, and she willingly started walking after a few seconds.

They reached the turtle-duck pond where they had first told each other their names, and they sat down by the water's edge. Iroh took his shoes off and stuck his feet in the pond, watching the ripples they made with fascination. "Come on," he urged. "Take your shoes off. The water's really refreshing."

She reluctantly took her little shoes off and slowly stuck her feet in the water. She gently swung them back and forth, creating little waves in the otherwise peaceful surface of the pond. She giggled and looked back at him, watching him watch the ripples in the pond. She looked at his eyes. There was something in them that made them sparkle, and she wasn't sure what it was, but she liked looking at them.

"What's it like being the Fire Lord's son?" she asked randomly. He turned to give her a look, but she had switched her position to watching the turtle-ducks playing in the water, and was waiting for his answer. He thought about her question for a moment. No one had ever asked him that before. And there was no way to answer it, really, because he had never _not_ been the Fire Lord's son. He wasn't sure how to compare it to a normal life.

"I don't know," he said. "It's okay, I guess. I get all the tea I want. And I take firebending lessons everyday."

"So do I," she said. "Well … not everyday. I take them once every other day." A silence followed after her comment, and she decided to ask another question related to Iroh's heritage.

"Do you think you'll like being Fire Lord someday?"

"I don't know," he said again. "I've never been Fire Lord before."

"Of course you haven't, silly!" she said, even though he was being completely serious. "But you are going to be it, right? You don't have any brothers."

"Yeah, I guess," he responded. "It would be fun, maybe."

"Zhou Han says he thinks being Fire Lord would be fun." she said, speaking of her twelve-year-old brother. "But if he can't be that, then he wants to join the Fire Nation army one day and go fight in the war." Iroh wasn't sure how to respond to her last comment. He didn't know what he thought of the war. His father didn't talk about it that much.

"Zhou Han also says if he were Fire Lord, he already knows who his Fire Lady would be," she said smiling.

"You would be my Fire Lady," Iroh answered. "You're the only girl I know that I would want to be it. Is that okay with you? Since I am going to be Fire Lord one day."

She blushed, smiling. "Yes, that's fine."

"Great!" he said enthusiastically. "Now I'm all set for the rest of my life." Maylin smiled inwardly, wondering if he realized that having her as a Fire Lady meant they would have to get married. She decided not to bring up that aspect of the situation.

"Maylin!" a voice was calling. The two stood up and immediately put their shoes back on after drying their feet off in the grass. "Maylin, where are you? It's time to go home!" The young girl turned to Iroh at hearing her mother's voice.

"Bye Iroh! I'll see you next time my mother comes to visit Lady Ilah." She opened her arms wide and gave and unsuspecting Iroh a gentle but firm hug. Just as he was about to start hugging her back, she pulled away and said bye one last time. She then started running off into the distance, her long dark hair, bound in a braid, bouncing against her back with every step she took. Iroh stared after her with an odd expression on his face, wondering what the feeling of butterflies in his stomach meant.


	4. Chapter 4

**I always had the impression that Iroh was a stud when he was younger :P (especially if he looked anything like Isaia draws him on dA). So, here's chapter four. I like this chapter, personally. If you like it too, please review! Kudos to Celestial Secrets for reviewing every chapter so far. Have a cookie! hands cookie Heheh. Enjoy this chapter!**

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_**Chapter Four**_

"Uncle? Are you awake?"

Iroh heard a distant voice talking to him, a voice that became clearer with every passing second. He opened his eyes only to have them rest upon the visage of Fire Lord Zuko. Except he did not know it was Zuko.

"Yes, I am awake. And why did you call me Uncle?"

"I meant, uh …" Zuko stuttered, knowing it would pain him to call Iroh anything but Uncle. "I meant brother."

"Of course you did, Ozai." Iroh said, struggling a little bit as he propped himself up into a sitting position on his bed once more. He looked around the room, which was very empty except for the presence of himself and his nephew.

"Where is Maylin?" he asked. "I thought you said you were going to get her from the garden."

"I tried to, Unc- um, brother." Zuko said, breaking the eye contact he had made with his uncle. "But when I got there she wasn't there. The guards said she had gone out to the market for the day. With Ursa," he added, wondering if his aunt and mother were very close.

"Oh, with Ursa?" he said, looking rather tired despite the nap he had just taken. "I suppose they'll have a good time. They always did."

Zuko's eyes shimmered, because of both love for his uncle and the tears that threatened to fall. "Do you think Ursa and Maylin were, um, _are _very close?" he asked, realizing how he could get information out of Iroh without making it sound like Maylin was dead.

"Oh, maybe not so close. At least, not as close as her and I. You know how the relationship can be between husband and wife, Ozai." Iroh said. Zuko did a half-smile, hoping his uncle wouldn't launch into a long conversation where he actually asked the Fire Lord questions assuming he was Ozai.

"Yes," Zuko said, hoping to spur him into more talking. "But are they good friends?"

"Yes, I believe so," Iroh said, nodding his head. "Maylin is like an older sister to Ursa, since her own sisters didn't always act so sisterly towards her."

Zuko nodded, knowing the feeling all too well.

Iroh paused before continuing. "Are you sure she's gone to the market? I could have sworn I was just with her in the garden now, by the turtle-duck pond."

"Yes, I'm sure." Zuko said.

"We'd just stolen some sweets from the kitchen. That old chef got so mad at us …" he said, chuckling. "But he never used that butcher knife on us like he said he would. He was an old and bitter man, but he wouldn't hurt a spider-fly."

Zuko smiled, realizing that Uncle Iroh was recounting tales that had actually happened in his life time as if they had just happened yesterday. He found it ironic that his short term memory was going fast, but his long term memory was still very much in tact.

"Did you … Do you do that often with Maylin?" he asked gently. "I mean, steal the desserts?"

"Yes, we used to all the time when we were much younger. I've known her since she was four, you know, Ozai. You wouldn't remember though. I was already fifteen when you were born."

"Of course," Zuko said. "Why did you meet when she was four? You were … six weren't you?" Zuko said, doing the quick math in his head as he remembered that the age difference between Iroh and his wife was two years.

"Yes, I was. We met because our mothers were best friends. Zhen. Yes, Zhen is her mother's name. Zhen is a nice lady." He sighed. "And then there's Zhou Han."

"Who is he again?" Zuko said, trying to make it sound like he simply forgot.

"Maylin's brother. He's three years older than me. He is a bully. There was that time I fought him … oh, but you remember that, right? I mean, you weren't even born yet. But I told the tale to you many times to put you to sleep at night. Interesting how the fighting stories always seemed to soothe you best …"

Zuko cleared his throat. "Uh, yes, I remember it well." He lied. "Listen, brother," Zuko said. "Maybe you should … go back to sleep. I need to … attend to … some war issues." The words he said were so fake, so obviously a lie, that Zuko was surprised Iroh believed him.

"I'm sure you do," he said gently. "I'll see you in the morning." Iroh turned on his side, but didn't close his eyes. He wasn't so physically tired that he wanted to go to sleep, he was more mentally tired, like he just wanted to lay back and relax for a while.

Zuko stared out at the mid-morning sun, wondering if the relapse in his memory had caused his uncle to become unaware of the time of day as well. Zuko started walking out of the room when he heard his uncle talking to seemingly no one.

"It's okay, Maylin, I can take him. It shouldn't be too hard. You just sit on the side and watch, I'll be okay."

The Fire Lord quickly exited the room, not wanting to listen to his uncle's conversation with people that existed only in his memories. It hurt too much to see him fade.

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"**_D_**on't be stupid Iroh! He's three years older than you and a foot taller!" Maylin pulled on Iroh's sleeve, trying to convince him not to fight Zhou Han. "I don't want you to get hurt!"

"It's your brother you should be worrying about!" Iroh said, taking off his shirt as he readied himself for the fight against Zhou Han.

"He's been taking firebending lessons ever since he was two, Iroh! That's eleven whole years!"

"And I've been taking them since I was two, also. That's _eight _whole years."

Maylin crossed her arms in indignation. "I'm glad you can do arithmetic, Iroh. But that's still three more years than you've been doing firebending for."

"Looks like you can do arithmetic, too, Maylin." he said, not looking her in the face as he started doing his breathing. Breathe in … breathe out. Separate and concentrate the energy in your body. Let it flow … He recited the steps in his head mentally as he did them physically.

"Iroh, look at me!" She grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, forcing him to stare into her big brown eyes. "Zhou Han doesn't play fair. He'll cheat. I know you, Iroh. You're an honorable person. Please, don't go up against him. You can't win."

"I know I can," Iroh said stubbornly. "I've got more skill in one arm than he does in his whole body."

"It has nothing to do with talent or skill." She said. "He'll _cheat_. He won't play by the rules. Anything that you think is dirty and rotten, he'll do."

"Thanks for the tip." he said, looking back in her eyes. "I'll keep a lookout for any tricky moves." He continued to look at her, waiting for an answer. She finally sighed, signaling that she had given in.

"Alright," she said, brushing his shoulder off. "Just be careful."

His expression softened as he looked at her. "I will." He turned to start walking away. "Oh!" he said, as if he suddenly remembered something. He handed her his shirt. "Can you hold this for me? And, can you not tell my mother? If she finds out, she'll get really mad at me."

She took his shirt in her hands, not saying anything. "Thanks," he said, giving her his prize winning smile that always seemed to make her go all soft on him. He walked away confidently, and she observed his bare back and arms, realizing that when he got older, he would have some nicely shaped muscles. Looking down at the shirt she held in her hands, she lifted it up and buried her face in it. She took in a deep breath, letting it out contentedly a few seconds later. It smelled just like him.

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"Oh, so you actually showed up?" Zhou Han said mockingly when he saw Iroh approaching the ring he'd drawn in the dirt. A lot of kids were already there, crowded a few feet outside of the circle.

"Yes, I did," Iroh said. "I see you decided to show up a well." He observed the kids of various ages that had gathered. "And you brought an audience."

"That doesn't bother you, does it?" Zhou Han said, his eyes full of cockiness.

"No," Iroh said lightly. "Although I wouldn't be surprised if it bothered you."

"Of course it doesn't, idiot!" Zhou Han said, lashing out at Iroh. He looked like he wanted to beat him up right then and there, but he refrained himself. "Now, there are going to be some rules to this fight."

"Rules," Iroh said, pretending to dwell on the matter. "Oh! You mean, rules you intend to break?"

Zhou Han tightened his already clenched fists, and locked his jaw. "If you follow the rules, shrimp, then _I'll _follow the rules. Simple as that."

"Shrimp?" Iroh said, pretending to be amused. "Is that the best name you can come up with?"

"It suits you well," Zhou Han replied, shifting the dirt beneath his feet with his toes. "Seeing as my little sister's taller than you, even though she's two years younger!" The crowd of children tried to suppress their giggles, and Zhou Han looked around at them when he realized they were laughing, becoming even more full of himself.

"I'm _not _taller than him!" A voice said from the crowd. Everybody turned to look; their eyes rested upon a dark eyed, dark haired girl sitting to the right of Iroh outside the ring. He gave her a half smile and she smiled back, picking up her hand that was buried in his shirt to wave at him.

"Oh great," Zhou Han said. "My own flesh and blood, come to root for the enemy." He turned and started yelling at Maylin. "What are you doing here Maylin? Come to cheer for your _boyfriend_?" He teased. The kids laughed loudly, and Zhou Han smiled, confident that the audience was now on his side.

"Look," Iroh said, his voice taking on a demanding tone. "We can sit here all day throwing insults at each other, or we can start this fight!"

"For once, I'd have to agree with you." Zhou Han said. He cleared his throat and started talking loudly, to make sure the whole audience could hear him. "The rules are as follows: rule number one, whoever leaves the ring is disqualified, whether he walks out or is forced out by his opponent. Rule number two, no firebending." Iroh gave him a funny look, as if to question why not, and Zhou Han answered by saying, "I could get into all kinds of trouble for burning the Fire Lord's _son_," he said tauntingly. "Not that I'm scared of you, but I wouldn't want your Father to come running when he hears I beat the chi out of you."

Iroh clenched his teeth but refrained from throwing back another insult. "Just state the rules."

"Rule number three: if someone remains on the floor for ten seconds, as the audience counts it, his opponent wins. And the final rule … no help from any audience members. It results in instant disqualification. You got that, shrimp?"

"I heard you," Iroh said. "It's kind of hard not to, big mouth," he muttered to himself.

"Okay, then," Zhou Han said, taking a stance. Iroh did as well. "Audience, on the count of three …"

The audience eagerly started chanting. "One, two, three, go!"

Iroh waited a second as he observed Zhou Han. He started inching his way to the left, so Iroh started circling him to the right. Iroh let Zhou Han approach him until he was within attacking distance. The older boy suddenly kicked out, his foot headed straight for Iroh's chest. He quickly ducked, and stuck out his leg in the process, hooking Zhou Han's ankle with his foot, causing him to fall down. Iroh stood back up quickly as he waited for Zhou Han to get up, barely even noticing the loud cheers of the audience.

"You think you're so great," Zhou Han said, only loud enough for the two of them to hear. "Just because you're the heir to the throne," he said through clenched teeth. "Well, let's see how it feels when I beat you!"

"Gimme your best shot," Iroh said, waiting for the blow to happen. Zhou Han took him up on his offer, releasing several punches in a row. However, Iroh dodged all of them by simply jumping to the side and proceeding to punch him twice in the back while he was still at it. Zhou Han stumbled forward, almost out of the ring, but kept his balance and turned back around to continue the fight. The audience was going crazy by now, convinced that it was simply a matter of time before Iroh won.

Zhou Han started wildly attacking, throwing out a series of punches and kicks. He was now so desperate to win that his concentration was waning, so it was easy for Iroh to dodge or block all of the blows Zhou Han had to offer. One particularly high kick, however, did manage to hit him in the chin, causing Iroh to stumble backwards. Zhou Han took advantage of the situation and lunged toward Iroh.

The young prince recovered quickly though, and hurriedly grabbed Zhou Han's arm, twisting it and causing him to fall to the ground in pain. Iroh dropped his weight on top of the boy, determined to keep him there for ten seconds. The audience started counting. "Ten, nine, eight …"

At the seven second mark, Zhou Han looked into Iroh's determined eyes and returned the gaze with a mischievous stare. Iroh faltered for a second, remembering Maylin's warning of the boy's tendency to cheat. Sure enough, Iroh watched horrified as Zhou Han produced a small flame and brought it closer and closer to Iroh's body. Thinking that maybe he could still beat him by the time count, Iroh remained solid, tuning into the audience's chants just in time to hear them say, "Five, four, three…"

But it was too late. The flame was dangerously close to Iroh's chest, and he could feel the heat of the fire threatening to penetrate his skin. He involuntarily jumped up and clutched his chest, watching as Zhou Han immediately stood up and the crowd stopped counting. Several audience members booed, since Iroh had seemingly jumped up for no reason, but a few cheered, still hoping that Zhou Han would win.

Iroh's expression toward the older boy, who now wore a malicious grin on his face, hardened deeply, and he pulled his fist back in blind fury, striking the unsuspecting boy right in the mouth. He fell back, bleeding profusely, his head obviously protruding out from the circle. The crowd jumped up and cheered, and several girls Iroh's age ran to his side. A few of Zhou Han's friends approached him to make sure he was okay, but most of the attention was focused on Iroh.

"You're so strong!" one girl mused, reaching her hand out to his bare arm. "Can I feel your muscle?"

"Uh, sure," he said, flexing his arm.

"Ooh," she cooed when he did so, her face blushing a deep red.

"Iroh, you're my hero!" Another girl called out, determined for him to take notice of her. All at once everyone started shouting compliments in his direction, the girls asking him to flex his arms so they could see how strong he was. He smiled cockily, willing to give in to all the attention.

One little girl stood on the sidelines, not having moved from the spot she originally sat in. "Iroh!" she called out, unsure if he could hear her or not. He didn't look at her, but rather walked away with the crowd of girls that was hovering around him. Her arms dropped to her side, and she looked dejectedly at her feet. "I have your shirt …"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five, here you go. Review if you want. I'm mostly just posting this now because it's a fic I actually finished, and I myself enjoy reading it all the way through (I think it's better that way than one chapter at a time). **

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_Chapter Five_

"**_I_**roh, I just don't understand how you could have such poor judgment!" Ilah said, her voice much louder than Iroh had ever heard before. "Do you realize that Zhou Han is missing three teeth now because of you?"

"Uh …" Iroh said, unsure of how to answer the question.

"Not a word, young man!" Ilah interrupted her son's train of thought. "Why did you two start fighting in the first place?"

"Well, you see --"

"Never mind!" she said, throwing her hands into the air. "I don't even want to hear it." She grabbed his wrist and started dragging him inside. "I'm taking you to your room, Iroh, and I don't want you to come out for any reason. Do you understand? Don't leave until I give you permission."

"Yes, mother," Iroh said, pretending to hang his head in shame, though he was secretly pleased he had taken on Zhou Han and won.

On their way to his room, they passed by a window, where outside Maylin was being chastised by her mother.

"How could you let this happen, Maylin?" Iroh heard Zhen say. "Your brother is bleeding now and missing some of his teeth. His mouth is going to be swollen for a long time …" she trailed off, but immediately picked her voice back up. "And Iroh! He's your best friend! A real friend wouldn't let their best friend get into a pointless fight. I thought you were more responsible than that, Maylin. You should have at least tried to stop them."

"Mother, I did!" Maylin said. But it was no use.

"I don't want to hear another word come from your mouth. When we get home, you are going to be punished, young lady."

"Wait!" Iroh said, releasing himself from the strong grip his mother had on his arm. She grabbed at him as he slipped away, but he was faster than she had expected. He ran back to the window and started shouting out to Maylin and Zhen, who were making as if to leave.

"Maylin _did _try to stop the fight! It was my fault. I didn't listen to her."

Zhen and Maylin turned around to look at Iroh's slim figure as he looked out the window with eyes that revealed he was telling the truth. Maylin gave him a grateful expression.

"You shouldn't have to punish Maylin," he said, hoping the girl's mother would see the truth. But Zhen only stared at him, taking her daughter's hand and turning back around. "Come now, Maylin." She said. "We have to get home and make sure your brother is okay."

Iroh cast his eyes down on the floor. He felt his mother approach him from behind and put her hand on his shoulder. When she finally spoke, her voice was much more gentle than it had been a few minutes ago.

"That was a very chivalrous thing to do, son." She said. "I'm proud of you for telling the truth, even if it meant taking all of the blame for yourself."

Iroh didn't respond, but instead thought back to when he was six years old, and his mother first told him how he had the power to either help or hurt simply by choosing his words carefully. He looked up at her with a hopeful face. "Does this mean I'm not punished anymore?"

She looked at him steadily, her expression unchanging. "No." She took his hand and started leading him to his room again.

"Aw!" he said, disappointed. "What's the point of being chivalrous if I still end up with the punishment?"

"You should do the right thing _because _it's the right thing," Ilah said, not bothering to glance back at her son. "Not because it benefits you."

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"How long are you going to be in there?" a small voice asked. Iroh shrugged his shoulders in response, indicating that he didn't know the answer.

"I have to stay in here until my mother says I can come out."

"That might be forever," Maylin said, tightening her grip on the edge of the window. Iroh just looked back at her, moving his eyes from her face to the tree that she sat in outside his window. A cool breeze came through and chilled his skin. She watched as it gently blew back his hair, causing it to look a little ruffled.

"Shouldn't you go home now?" he asked. "Your mother will be wondering about you."

"It's okay," she said, shivering a little bit from being outside in the cold. "Thanks you to, my mother didn't punish me after all."

"But she will if she finds out you snuck out!"

Maylin shrugged, not seeming to be bothered by the fact. "She thinks I'm asleep in my bed. I put some pillows under there to make it look like I was still in it. Besides, my mother is a heavy sleeper. I don't think she'll wake up only to find me not there."

Iroh smiled, revealing his pearly white teeth. Maylin smiled back, and Iroh started speaking. "You don't seem like the type to sneak out in the middle of the night."

She blushed as she quickly averted her gaze from looking in his eyes to looking at the window sill where her knuckles were turning white from gripping so hard. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay after you stood up for me like that."

"Well … thanks." he said moving in a little closer. He rested his elbows in the window sill and stared out at the almost full moon. She followed his gaze and rested her eyes on the moon as well.

"It's so pretty, isn't it?" she said. He was about to respond when he suddenly felt her jerk forward. He reached out and automatically grabbed her, his grip tight and strong around her arm. She steadied herself with his help and he kept his hand there until he was sure she could stand firmly.

"What happened?" he said. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, still shaking a little from her scare. "I just lost my footing."

"Well, don't do that!" he said, his heart pounding within his chest. "If you fell, we'd be in so much trouble, and you'd probably have a broken arm or two, and --" he stopped short when he felt her lips gently pressed up against his cheek. The blood started rushing to his face and his heart skipped a beat.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "I think I should go home now," she slowly started making her way down the tree, not slipping once. He watched her until her feet were both planted firmly on the ground. She looked up at him and waved, saying as loud as she dared to at night, "Bye."

He waved back, though no words came out of his mouth. It wasn't until she was out of earshot that he was finally able to whisper back. "Bye …"

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Fire Lord Zuko picked himself up from the chair in which he sat. He walked around the infirmary, looking at all the crisp, white beds and the plain, wooden tables that sat beside each one. The room was completely empty besides the furniture and the two beings that occupied it; himself and his Uncle.

Not sure of what to do with himself, Zuko started walking out of the room, gently closing the door behind him. It would be okay for him to leave; after all, even if his uncle did wake up, he seemed to know where he was. It was unlikely he would start panicking for any reason.

The Fire Lord found himself wandering aimlessly around the palace, deep in thought. His mind replayed the conversation he had with the doctor about his aunt.

_The one man who knew her best is lying in that bed right there … her life and death may be buried forever in that man's mind. _

Zuko once again found himself questioning why Maylin's existence was seemingly erased from Royal Family history. Not even the recorder who had documented the family's history seemed to know much about her; either that or he didn't want the rest of the world to know anything about her. He had one last chance to find out the truth about Maylin. And that chance was downstairs in the infirmary, dying.

Suddenly slamming his fist into the wall beside him, Zuko growled in frustration. With Iroh died the past. How could he make it so that that didn't happen?

He raised his head to look around where his leisurely walk lead him to. Iroh's room. Of course! Zuko thought to himself, maybe there's something in here. Surely his uncle would have preserved some keepsake that reminded him of her.

Zuko ran his hand across the finely polished wall as he made his way toward the center of the room. Taking in his surroundings, he smiled slightly when he remembered coming back to the palace for the first time after his banishment. His father, mother, and sister were all dead, the family line seemingly in ruins. It was Iroh's birthright to take the throne and reign over the Fire Nation until he died. But he'd passed the offer up, giving it to Zuko instead.

"My chance has long since been extinguished," Iroh had said after explaining to Zuko that he didn't want to be Fire Lord. "Your time to reign has just begun."

Of course, Zuko had the palace regenerated after the war ended, because much of it had been damaged when the Avatar and his army invaded it to find and destroy Ozai. Iroh helped with much of the plans, since he had lived there as a child and remembered a lot of the detail very well. Zuko even let Iroh have his childhood room on the second floor, the one that had the tree right outside the window. Zuko walked to the window, looking at the tree, old and gnarled now, turning around only to observe the room in its entirety.

It was a humble room, no doubt; there was not nearly as much furnishing in it as Zuko would have insisted. There was a bed, a small nightstand with a teapot on it, a bigger table with a bowl and a cloth for washing one's face, and a dresser. The closet was also somewhat small, since it had once belonged to a small boy, but that didn't matter to Iroh since he didn't need that much room anyway.

Zuko wandered over to the closet and opened its door, his eyes taking a little bit to adjust to the darkness. Moving the clothes aside on their hangers, he reached his hand back until he felt the wall on the other side. He felt like he needed to be alone, surrounded only by inanimate objects, so he pushed his way to the back of the closet and slid down the wall, stopping as he seated himself on the floor. His hand reached out to the right of him to rest on the ground, but instead of meeting with the cold floor, it touched something small and smooth. Running his hand along the mysterious object, he concluded it was a box of some type, and he picked it up with both hands and sat it in his lap. By now his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he opened up the small box, gasping at what he saw inside.

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Iroh tossed and turned in his sleep only for a second or two before he woke up. Opening his eyes, he took in his surrounding, suddenly remembering that he was in the infirmary. For what reason, he wasn't sure, but he had been sleeping for long enough and he wanted to go outside and breathe in some fresh air. Slowly bringing his legs to the side of the bed, he hung them off and dropped down to the floor, steadying himself as he stood up. He started making his way outside, wondering why the palace seemed so empty.

On his way out, he passed by a pair of large double doors. He studied the delicate carvings on them, and slowly opened them up, only to find himself staring at an empty ballroom. He made his way inside the dusty room, for it hadn't been used in years, and sat down on one of the many chairs lined up around the edge. The center of the floor was completely empty, left that way so that guests would have room to dance during Royal Balls. He smiled as he thought about his fourteenth birthday, the celebration having been held in that very room.

"Fourteen," he whispered to himself. "My, I was young …" he closed his eyes as the memories came flooding back, like water rushing over him much like it rushes through the air before it plummets to the depths below in the form of a waterfall.


	6. Chapter 6

**Here's chapter six! One of my personal favorite. Review if you want; it's appreciated. **_**

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**Chapter Six**

"**_M_**y, don't you look handsome?" his mother said as she smoothed Iroh's wrinkled clothes. The teenage boy backed away, trying to get away from his mother's reach.

"Stop it!" he said, "It doesn't help that these clothes are already really uncomfortable."

Ilah laughed. "I'm sorry. I just wanted you to look nice for your birthday ball. After all, you are turning fourteen." Her eyes shimmered as she spoke. "You're growing up so fast …"

_Great_, Iroh thought to himself as he let his mother smooth his hair. He rolled his eyes, hoping that someone would come in soon to stop all the gooey, motherly love.

"Now, where is Xing?" Ilah asked her son. "She can't be late. If she's not here on time, you two will miss the opening dance, and that's the most important one! Why, then the whole thing will be --"

"It's okay mother!" Iroh said, interrupting her. "She's here already, I saw her. She's with her father, greeting the guests as they come in."

"Okay, good," his mother said. "You remember the dance, right? I wouldn't want you to trip up on the traditional dance."

"Yes, mother, I know it." He said, exasperated. "Xing and I have practiced enough. We'll be fine. Why don't you go and … finish getting ready or something?"

She smiled warmly, noticing that her son wanted her to leave. "Okay, I'm going." She started walking out of his room, turning to say, "Don't be late. I want you downstairs in the ball room in five minutes."

"Okay, I'll be there." he said. She left the room, closing the door behind him. "It's not like I'd miss it," he said out loud to no one. "It's my party, after all."

A second later, he heard a knocking on the door. Sighing out loud, as he thought it was his mother, he yelled, "Come in!" The door opened to reveal, not his mother, but Maylin, wearing a lovely pink gown. He turned to look at her, and was about to say hi, but when his eyes rested on her he found that he couldn't speak.

"Hello," she said, walking toward him. She giggled. "You look nice."

"So do you," he answered, his eyes glued to her as he tried to comprehend how a twelve-year-old girl suddenly didn't look so … young.

"So, um…" she spoke, her glowing face suddenly losing its smile. "Are you ready for the dance?"

"Yes," he answered, watching her eyes move from his face down to the floor.

"I mean, the one with Xing."

"Oh …" he said, his eyes moving to the floor as well. "I guess."

"Did … did you choose who you wanted to dance with in the opening traditional dance? Or did someone else choose for you?"

"No," he said, examining the way her hair fell perfectly about her shoulders, even when she moved her head. "I chose."

"Oh," she said again. Her face suddenly took on a teasing expression in order to cover up her disappointment. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"No!" Iroh said defensively, but he could tell that his face said otherwise, the way it started to feel all warm. She put her hands on her hips, and he noticed that her body was starting to develop some curves.

"Don't lie to me, Iroh." she said, leaning forward to intimidate him. "I can tell when you're lying."

"No you can't," he said, though his voice faltered a bit.

"Yes, I can," she said confidently. "Besides, I saw you kiss her the other day out by the turtle-duck pond." She turned around and closed her eyes, her hand still on her hips, hoping that this gesture would make it seem like she was proud of her observation that he had no way to deny. But she swallowed hard as she tried not to let the tears fall.

"Were you spying on me?" he asked incredulously, starting to get mad. He wasn't angry with her, though. He was embarrassed that she had seen it.

At that moment, Ilah opened the door to stick her head in. "Come on down now, Iroh. It's been five minutes. You too, Maylin," she added when she saw the girl was in his room too. The two of them walked out of the room in silence to join Ilah. Iroh walked ahead of the two, deciding not to make eye contact with either one.

"You look beautiful, Maylin," he heard his mother say. "Is that a new dress?"

Iroh could just imagine the way Maylin nodded, though he couldn't see her doing it. "Mm-hm," she said her voice sounding a little broken, even though she didn't really speak. He blinked a couple of times, wondering if he hurt her feelings in any way.

They passed by the kitchen on the way over, and Ilah suddenly stopped walking. "Maylin, dear, would you mind getting me something to drink really quick? Just bring it to the ballroom. I'll have it before we enter." The Royal Family always made a big entrance when one of the children was having their fourteenth celebration ball. After the entrance, the child always danced with a chosen partner in front of all the guests. Once their dance was completed, the real dance began.

"Of course, Lady Ilah," Maylin said, graciously entering the kitchen to fetch her something to drink. Iroh and his mother kept walking until they reached the door to the ballroom. All the guests were already inside; Iroh could tell because he heard them talking. It wasn't until just then that he started feeling a little nervous.

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"Thank you very much," Maylin said to the chef as she exited the kitchen. She thought it was kind of him to put aside all the other food he was making at the moment for the party in order to whip up some quick tea for Lady Ilah. She started making her way back toward the ballroom, going slowly so as not to spill the very full cup. She felt footsteps coming up fast behind her, and turned around just in time to see a girl heading her way. It took her a second, but she finally realized that it was Xing, and she wasn't watching where she was going.

"Xing, look out!" Maylin said, standing frozen to the spot she was in. Xing turned her head to find that she was about to crash into the twelve-year-old girl, but there was nothing she could do about it. The two made contact, and half of the tea that was in the cup went flying from the porcelain container and onto the ground in front of the two girls. Luckily it didn't get on either of the girls' dresses.

"I'm sorry," Maylin started to say, but Xing interrupted her, saying, "Just stay out of my way!" She continued her rushed walk toward the ballroom, but only took one step before she put her left foot in the tea on the ground, and she slipped, hitting the floor with a _thud_.

"Ow," the teenage girl said, holding her ankle.

"Are you okay?" Maylin asked, gently setting the teacup on the floor, for it still had a good amount of tea in it, and bending over to help Xing up. Maylin tried to reach for her arm but the older girl pulled away.

"Don't touch me!" She said angrily. She went back to gripping her ankle. Turning to glare at Maylin, she said, "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't, I promise!" Maylin said.

"Now my ankle's twisted. I can't dance!" She said, ignoring what Maylin had just said. She stared at the twelve-year-old, a cold expression on her face. "I know you're close with Iroh, but he's mine, okay? You can have him as a friend. Let _me _have him as a boyfriend."

Maylin just stared at the girl, horrified at her outlandish behavior and surprised that she suggested that Maylin wanted Iroh as a boyfriend.

"Well, don't just stand there!" Xing said as she clutched her ankle. "Go find Lady Ilah and tell her I'm injured!"

Maylin just nodded out of fear of the girl, picked up the teacup and started walking toward the ballroom entrance. She could go faster now because the cup wasn't nearly as filled to the brim. When she got there, she handed the tea to Ilah, who took a couple sips, but not before thanking the young girl. She looked about nervously, suddenly saying, "Where's Xing?" Iroh merely shrugged.

"She slipped," Maylin piped up. "I accidentally spilled some of your tea on the floor on the way over here," she said, not bothering with the detail that Xing was the reason she spilled it. "She came around the corner and fell before I could say anything. She told me to tell you that her ankle is twisted, and she can't dance."

"Oh no!" Ilah said, her eyes permeated with stress. "What are we going to do? Who will Iroh dance with now?"

"Calm down, Ilah," Xing's father said, for he was there to process in with the others. "I'll go get my daughter. In the meantime, I'm sure there's someone who can fill in." The man hastily walked away, Maylin grateful that he didn't seem too upset about the whole ordeal.

"Maylin!" Ilah said excitedly once Xing's father was out of earshot. "Can you dance, by any chance? Do you know the traditional dance performed at the fourteenth birthday?"

She nodded shyly. "Yes. I learned by watching my brother do it when he was practicing for his celebration."

"Wonderful!" she said, smiling. "Then you can do the dance with Iroh. Oh!" She said, perking up when she heard the music start inside the ballroom. "That's our cue, come on now, children, get in line … walk in … there you go." She watched from behind as Iroh and Maylin walked into the ballroom, arm in arm. Once they were a certain distance away, Ilah started to process in herself. She was supposed to walk in with Xing's father, but he was somewhere in a hallway helping his daughter. The three stopped before Fire Lord Azulon, who was seated in a throne in the ballroom. They all bowed at once, and Ilah stepped off to the side while Iroh and Maylin made their way back to the middle of the ballroom. They stood in position as they waited for the music to start.

"Are you sure you know how to do this?" Iroh asked, his right hand around her waist, his left hand holding hers.

"Yes, I told you I watched my brother when he practiced for his." She said.

"But have you ever actually danced it?"

"… No."

"Just follow my lead then. You'll get the hang of it after a while." She positioned her left hand on his shoulder, feeling her heart start to pound as she realized that almost all the noble families of the Fire Nation were in that room, watching them.

Just then, the music started, and Iroh started the dance, quietly whispering instructions in her ear. "Step back, two, three, four, and stop. Now I'm going to spin you … good. Now pause, and dip…" She eventually tuned out his instructions, having gotten the hang of it, and calmly breathed out, enjoying the dance while she still could.

"So, did you spill that tea on purpose?" Iroh asked mischievously after he realized Maylin had gotten the hang of it and he didn't need to instruct her anymore.

"No," she hissed defensively, trying to be quiet but get her point across at the same time. "You want to know how it really happened? She bumped into me because she wasn't watching where she was going. That's why I spilled the tea. I tried to tell her I was sorry, but she kept going and slipped on it." Maylin paused before continuing. "She got what she deserved."

Much to Maylin's surprise, Iroh laughed quietly as he spun her around. "She can be kind of … rude, can't she?" he said, bringing Maylin back in close to his body to prepare her for the dip.

"Yes, she can … I thought you liked her, though?" Maylin said, looking into his eyes as he brought her back up.

"You wanna know a secret?" He said, his grin revealing that he was eager to share it.

"Yes," she responded.

"I'm only pretending to like her to make another girl jealous. Truth is, I could have any girl I want, really. I chose her because she was the prettiest."

"Iroh!" Maylin said, completely appalled by his answer. She fully forgot to ask which girl it was he was trying to make jealous. In a way, he was glad she didn't ask. "You better watch the size of your ego!"

"You better watch your foot," he said, and she looked down just in time to see that she was about to step on his foot.

"Oh, sorry," she muttered, quickly altering her steps back to the beat of the song. He simply shrugged, as if to say it was okay. She stared back at him, seeing why it was he said he could have any girl he wanted. They did seem to flock to him, although she would never admit that to him. She started to wonder if he ever thought of her as a potential girlfriend.

"How much longer is this song?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"Why? Do you want to stop dancing?" he said.

"No, it's not that," she said hurriedly. "I was just wondering … it seems to be a kind of long song."

"It is," he answered casually. "But it's more than halfway over now."

The two of them danced the rest of the song in complete silence, letting the music take over their movements. A few times she noticed that he spun her in particularly close to his body, or brought her face up particularly close to his after completing a dip, and each time she felt her face start to turn red. She would always look away, hoping that he didn't notice. And every time she looked back at him, there was that smile on his face, a smile she couldn't interpret, but left his eyes sparkling. Sparkling … just like when they were younger.

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Once the dance ended, the audience cheered loudly, and Iroh bowed to them while Maylin curtsied, then they turned and did so to each other. Another song started up, and various other couples flooded onto the dance floor, while Iroh and Maylin made their way to the edge to sit down for a bit.

"You're a good dancer," he commented when they found some seats. "Especially for having never danced to that song before."

"You were good, too," she said.

"I had some practice, though." he responded.

The two of them sat in silence until the song playing ended and another one started up. "Hey, I know this one," Maylin said casually, implying that she also knew the steps to it.

"You want to dance?" Iroh asked, turning to look at her with eager eyes.

She slowly nodded. "Okay," she agreed, holding her hand out. Iroh took it and led her out onto the dance floor, the feeling of butterflies present in his stomach once again.


	7. Chapter 7

**IMPORTANT!! If you're wondering why I posted the remaining chapters all at once, _please_ see my profile. It will explain everything. **_**

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**Chapter Seven**

"Uncle!" Zuko was saying, forgetting that his uncle currently thought he was Ozai. "Look at what I found. They're --" he stopped short after entering the infirmary, realizing that his uncle was no longer there. The sheets were still on his bed, the blankets wrinkled, so that at least meant he was still alive. If he had died within the short time Zuko was gone, the bed would be stripped clean.

He let the box drop to his side, making sure to hold the lid on tight so the contents wouldn't fall out and onto the floor. A puzzled look crossed his face, and he wondered where in the world his uncle could have gone. Leaving the room immediately, he decided to check out in the garden; after all, Zuko had said that Maylin was out there before she went to the market. Maybe he went to go see for himself if she really was there or not.

He started a hurried walk toward the garden, passing the double doors that led to the ballroom on the way. Suddenly stopping in his tracks, he walked backwards a few steps to examine the doors. One of them was opened slightly. He pushed it open farther and peeked inside, his eyes resting on the sitting figure of his Uncle.

"There you are!" Fire Lord Zuko said, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. "I've been looking for you! Look what I found!" He held out the box in front of Iroh, urging him to take it in his own hands. Iroh merely glanced at Zuko first, then looked at the box, and gingerly took it. Opening the box, he stared at the contents, and then turned to look at Zuko, who had taken the seat next to him.

"What are you doing in here?" Iroh asked.

"I should ask you the same question," Zuko said, wondering why he wasn't as enthralled with the box and its contents as he should have been.

"I was just thinking about when I had my fourteenth birthday celebration ball." He said nostalgically. He turned to look at Zuko. "Do you remember yours, Ozai?"

Zuko bit his lower lip and turned his head away. He'd heard of the balls that the Royal Family and other families of class held for their sons and daughters when they turned fourteen. But he'd never had one, since he was banished before it could happen. He sat back in his chair, wondering if Azula ever had one.

"No," Zuko said softly. "I can't say I remember it very well at all."

"That's a shame," Iroh said, shaking his head.

"But what about these?" Zuko said, motioning toward the box. "Do you remember them?"

Iroh looked back down into the box and nodded. "It reminds me of when Zhou Han finally joined the army." He said. Zuko made a confused face.

"But those letters," he said, motioning towards the ones in the box. "They aren't from Zhou--"

"Do you want me to tell you the story, Ozai?" He said, ignoring what Zuko had just said. "You were too young to remember. Just an infant, even."

"Yes," Zuko said, nodding. He knew that Iroh would remember the story attached to the letters eventually. But for now he sat back in his seat contentedly, waiting for his uncle to begin.

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**_T_**he sun shone brightly outside as Iroh sat bored in his room. His mind wandered back to his mother, and his new baby brother. He'd been born just a couple weeks ago, and everyone in the palace was excited and happy for Ilah. Everyone except Iroh. He'd always been an only child. By the time he reached twelve, he figured it would stay that way forever. But now he was fifteen, and there _he _was -- Ozai.

Iroh had to admit he was cute, and it was especially heart warming to hold him while he was sleeping and look down at his innocent, adorable face. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he wasn't so angry that Ozai came in and started to take all the attention away, it was more of the fact that he needed to get used to sharing it all. _Oh well_, Iroh thought to himself, _at least he's not old enough to be able to steal any girls from me._

Girls … his train of thought led back to them. He hadn't had a girlfriend in while -- a month and a half, to be exact. He started to wonder if he was losing something that made him so attractive to all those girls; maybe his charm, his wit, his good looks … He shrugged the idea off, figuring it had something to do with the excitement caused over Ozai's birth. Everyone was just too distracted lately by the arrival of a new family member.

At that moment, he heard a knocking on his door. "Come in," he said, plopping himself down on his bed and taking up a relaxed position. He created a flame from one of his fingertips and started playing with it, turning his head to see Maylin walk in.

"Oh, hi Maylin," he said, continuing to play with the fire. "How are you?"

She didn't answer, but instead sat herself down on Iroh's bed and pulled her legs up to her chest. Iroh didn't care that she sat on his bed without asking, after all, they were pretty close and she didn't need to ask permission anymore. But it bothered him that she wasn't saying anything.

"What's wrong?" he asked, turning to look at her. He sat up straight when he saw that she was blinking back tears. "What happened?" he asked, visions of bullies pushing her to the ground dancing in his head. Or maybe her mother became sick with some deadly disease … Zhen always seemed like the sickly type. Or worse, maybe a boy did something to her.

"It's Zhou Han," she said, turning to look at Iroh, noticing that concern etched a cute expression on his face. "He's running away to join the army."

"But he's only seventeen," Iroh said, "I thought you had to be eighteen to fight."

"You do," she said, the tears freely falling now. "But he's lying about his age. He said it shouldn't be too hard, after all, his birthday is in one month. He'll be old enough then anyway."

Iroh put his arm around her shoulder and pressed his head against hers. "It's okay. He'll be fine. Does your mother know?"

"No, he only told me because I caught him taking some money from my parents' room. And even then he made me promise not to tell anyone else." She looked him in the eyes, and he felt his heart lurch when he saw the sadness in her eyes. "I know we didn't always get along, but, he's my brother. What if he doesn't come back? I'll only have myself to blame for letting him leave." She started sobbing uncontrollably, burying her head in Iroh's shoulder.

He put his other arm around her and held her close, rubbing her back to calm her, and because he liked the way it felt.

"Don't say that," he said gently. "It's not your fault at all. Remember when me and Zhou Han got in that fight and you tried to stop us? That wasn't your fault either. Just because you can't convince someone to make a smart decision, it doesn't mean the consequences are your fault."

Her tears slowed down, though they did not stop, and she lifted her head up, resting her chin on his shoulder. She moved her arms, previously pressed up against her stomach, into a hugging position around his neck. Closing her eyes, she sighed, resting her head and relaxing her whole body. She wasn't sure why, but just being held in his strong arms made the world seem so much better than it really was.

He stopped rubbing her back and moved one hand up to hold her head. He'd always wanted to run his fingers through her hair; he imagined it must feel like silk. He restrained himself, though, content with just having her in his arms for the time being.

After taking a deep breath, she pulled away, and looked deep into his eyes. "Thank you," she said. "I don't know what you did, but it made me feel so much better." She wiped her eyes and started to yawn. "And now I suddenly feel so tired…" She blinked slowly a few times, finding it hard to keep her eyes opened.

Imagining she must have stayed up really late last night worrying about her brother, or crying, or both, he pulled the blankets down on his bed and invited her to lay down. She accept his invitation, laying her head down gently on the soft pillows, taking in a deep breath while she did so. She liked the way he smelled, and his bed carried the same scent.

He got out of the bed and covered her up, shutting the wooden shutters to the window so the sun couldn't come in. Smiling gently as he looked at her tiny, curvy figure lying in his bed, he left the room, shutting the door behind him. She opened one eye when she felt his presence leave the room, and sighed contentedly, wondering what in the world she ever did to deserve a best friend like him.

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"Did you have a nice nap?" he asked, not moving the position of his head, but turning his eyes to look at her as he took a sip of tea from the porcelain cup.

She sat down next to him, trying to smooth her hair out so it didn't look so ruffled. "Yes," she said, smiling. "It was refreshing. Your bed is very soft."

"I know," he said, pushing a cup of tea in her direction. "Have some."

She gratefully picked up the tea and took a sip. "Mm!" she said delightedly after she swallowed. "This is delicious! Did that old chef make it?"

"No," Iroh said, taking another sip from his cup. "I did."

"_You _did?" she said, her eyebrows raising in surprise. "This is really good, Iroh! It's even better than the chef's version of the recipe."

"Well, I played around with it until I found a way of making it just right," he said, putting his cup down for the first time since she arrived in the Dining Hall, turning to look at her. "I had to switch around a few things, but other than that, it's pretty much the same recipe."

"And you were just waiting around for me to say something about it, weren't you?" She said, a smile breaking out onto her face. "So that you could start bragging about the secret ingredients and whatnot."

"No, actually," Iroh said very seriously. "I'm going to keep it a secret. I wouldn't want anyone else stealing the recipe." He paused to take another sip. "But you really like it? I need an honest opinion because you're the first one who's tried it, besides me of course."

"Yes, I love it!" she said. "And I'm not just saying that. It really is good."

"Good," he said. "Then I'll ask the chef if I can make the tea tonight for our evening meal. I wonder if my mother and father will be able to taste the difference."

"I'm sure they will," Maylin said encouragingly. "_I_ noticed it."

"True," he said, nodding his head. "But you're also the only other one around here who drinks tea as much as I do."

"And you want to know why?" she said, barely able to contain a laugh. "Because you drink it all the time. And whenever I'm with you, you offer some to me too."

He looked at her with a suspicious expression. "Really? That's the only reason?"

She nodded. "I always drink more tea when I'm here at the palace with you than when I'm at my own house."

He looked intrigued by her explanation. "You could just say no, you know. You don't have to drink it."

"No, I want to," she insisted. "Drinking tea is much more enjoyable when you're doing it with someone else."

"I agree," he said, nodding. They finished drinking their tea without saying much of anything else. When they were both done, Iroh stood up and offered to take her cup back to the kitchen for the chef to clean. She obliged, and watched him walk out of the Dining Hall. When he returned, he sat down and looked at her, saying, "So, what do you want to do now?"

"I don't know," she said, looking out the window that was behind him. "It looks like it's getting kind of late. Maybe I should go home."

"I'll walk you," he offered, standing up and pushing in his chair. She raised an eyebrow in surprise. Since when was he so polite? And since when did he ever leave the palace?

"Um, okay," she said, standing up as well and pushing in her chair. The two walked outside and past the guards, telling them it was okay, they were just walking back to Maylin's house, and started on their way. After a couple of seconds in silence, a breeze blew by, and Maylin shivered, immediately clutching her arms with her hands to try and warm up.

"Cold?" Iroh asked, putting his arm around her. She blushed and felt her body get warm immediately.

"Not anymore," she said, smiling at him.

"Good," he said, smiling back, noting the small space in between her two front teeth on the top. He didn't know why, but it was always the first thing he noticed about her smile, and it always made him want to smile back.

As they walked through the streets, a lot of people stopped to look at them, whispering amongst themselves, "Isn't that Iroh, the Fire Lord's son? What's he doing out of the palace?" But the two walking along paid no heed to them. They were perfectly content just being with each other.

When they reached Maylin's house, the two of them stopped, and Iroh brought his hand back to his side. Turning to look at Maylin, he said, "Your mother has probably found out by now that Zhou Han is gone."

"Probably," Maylin said, her eyes immediately saddening.

"Are you going to let her know that you knew ahead of time?" he asked curiously.

"No," she answered. "I think I'll be able to convince her that I didn't know. Besides, I've still got a few tears left in me that should do the trick," she said, trying to smile. He gave a sad smile back. At that moment, he had the sudden urge to lean down and find out what her lips tasted like. He stopped himself, though, and quietly said, "Well … bye."

"Bye," she said.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he offered, but she didn't respond. Instead she turned and walked up the stairs leading to her house. He turned around and started heading back to the palace, feeling both sad and flustered at the same time.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter Eight**_

Zuko smiled when his uncle finished talking, surprised at the amount of detail he was able to provide for the story. For having a heart failure and a memory relapse, he certainly didn't seem to be at a loss for words.

"Is that all you can remember?" Zuko asked.

Iroh gave him a funny look, and said, "Of course not. I remember everything about Maylin. That's just the end of that story," He stood up from his seat and started walking out of the ballroom. Zuko eagerly stood up to follow him, asking, "Where are you going?" Iroh turned around and held up the box full of letters.

"I want to read a few of these. If you don't mind …" he said, turning back around to continue walking. "…I'd like to read them privately."

"Oh," Zuko said, his shoulders slumping. "Just tell me where you're going so I can find you later."

"I myself am not sure where I'm going," Iroh admitted. "Probably to the garden." Zuko just watched in silence as he started walking down the long hallway. Sighing once he was out of earshot, Zuko leaned against the wall behind him, wondering what he should do with himself. Glancing out the window, he noticed that it was starting to get dark. Mentally making a note to himself to find Iroh in an hour so he could put him back in the infirmary, he started heading towards his own room.

-----------------------------

Once outside, Iroh sat down on the wooden bench that was placed near the edge of the turtle-duck pond. He watched the mother turtle-duck quacking to her young ones, probably encouraging them to follow her as they made a trip to the other side of the water. All of them started following her, save one, a feisty looking one, that stayed behind to splash playfully in the water. He chuckled to himself as he watched the mother turtle-duck, along with all of her young ones, turn back around in order to retrieve the one naughty one.

A cool breeze blew through, and Iroh looked down at the box sitting in his lap. He opened it up and set the lid on the bench next to him. Taking out one of the letters, he held it gingerly in his hands, not so much reading it as he was observing the old, tattered state it was in and feeling the texture of the parchment. Tempted to read the letter he held in his hands, he opened it up, and sighed when he recognized the handwriting that covered the old paper.

After observing it for a second or two, he folded the letter back up and put it in the box, placing the lid on top again. As much as he wanted to read the letters from Maylin, he knew that their role came later in the story. "Not yet …" he whispered to himself as he closed his eyes and went back in time several years, to when he was sixteen years old.

-----------------------------

**_I_**roh smiled contentedly to himself as he lay in his bed, a breeze blowing through the open window and tousling his hair. He reached over to his nightstand, where a cup of hot tea that he had made two minutes ago lay, and picked it up, holding it to his mouth to take a sip. Putting it back down on the small table, he breathed in deeply and concentrated his energy. Breathing out harshly and suddenly, he smiled when he saw fire escape his lips. Laughing to himself with delight, he took a celebratory sip of tea, pleased with himself and the new technique he'd learned. He tried it a couple times more before deciding to stop and try to go to sleep.

Pulling the blankets up to his chest, he lay on his back with his hands resting underneath his head, staring up at the ceiling with a smile plastered on his face. Today had been a good day. Even though it technically wasn't her birthday, Maylin held her fourteenth birthday ball today, and of course, she'd asked him to be her partner for the opening traditional dance. They danced fabulously, of course, this time having had more practice because no one surprisingly slipped on spilled tea a few minutes before going on. He smiled to himself as he remembered the tea incident with Xing. Now that he thought back on it, he was glad that Xing wasn't the one he shared his traditional dance with. It meant so much more to him that Maylin was the one who was there with him that night. They had known each other for ten years, after all, and had been best friends since practically the minute they met.

"Well, maybe not …" he admitted to himself out loud when he remembered that he actually made her shriek with disgust when they first met. So it was more like after spending their first fifteen minutes together that they really connected.

He turned to his side, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder and eyeing the window. He had left it open because it got a little warm in the room while he was practicing his fire-breathing, but now that he stopped, it was starting to get cold. Standing up to shut the window and close the shutters, he looked out onto the moonlit lawn before doing anything. He squinted his eyes in suspicion when he saw a dark figure laying on the ground behind the stone wall that bordered the garden. Opening the window even wider than it was before, he climbed out onto the tree and started his way down. Once he was close enough to the ground, he jumped as quietly as he could, his bare feet hitting the grass with ease. He immediately took notice of his surroundings, as everything looked different when it was dark, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He shivered violently when he realized that it was cold outside, and he wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes. Figuring it would take too much time to go back inside and cover up, he started making his way toward the stone wall to see what was behind there.

At that moment, a dark figure rounded the corner and the two collided, falling onto the ground. Iroh immediately stood up and took a stance, but relaxed when he saw who it was that still lay on the ground.

"Maylin?" he questioned, leaning down to help her up. "What are you doing here?"

She stood up and scratched her head in embarrassment, picking up something soft that was lying on the ground. Holding it out to him, she said, "This is your robe. You left it in the ballroom after the dance tonight." He took it in his hands and put it on, grateful that she provided him with something warm to wear on the cold night, even if it meant she had to sneak around in the dark to give it to him. He had worn it to the ball that night since it was chilly out, but once inside the ballroom, he took it off and set it on a chair. He must have forgotten to take it home with him later that night.

"Why are you returning it now?" he asked. "You could have just waited until tomorrow."

"I know," she said, shrugging sheepishly. "I guess … I kind of wanted to climb that tree by your window and give it to you that way."

"Why?" he asked, although he knew it was none of his business.

"Just _because_, you great lug!" she said, giving him a playful punch in the arm. "Besides, I like coming to the palace at night. Everything is so … different, you know? It almost seems mysterious." She paused, putting a finger up to her chin thoughtfully. "That, and my mother was out like a light, so I didn't see any harm in coming to see you here. Besides, I didn't think you would be asleep yet. And would you look at that, I was right!"

He smiled, amused at her antics and glad that she was there, despite the chilling temperature and the odd timing.

"Hey, wait a second!" she said, pointing a finger at him. "What are you doing out here? I know you live here and all, but, I expected you'd be in your room."

"Guess you can't be right about everything, huh?" He said, and she only glared mockingly at him. "I thought I saw something down by the stone wall at the edge of the garden. It was probably only you, though."

"But I didn't come in that way," she insisted. "I never walked by it."

His expression turned serious, and he stepped in front of her. "Then whatever it is, it's probably still there. Let's go see if we can find it." He started walking and she silently came up to his side. "No, stay behind me," he said, gently pushing her back. The two started their silent trek to the other side of the garden. After a couple of steps, he felt her clutch the sleeve of his robe with uncertainty, and he turned around to look at her.

"Whatever it is, it's not bothering anyone, right? Why don't we just … go somewhere safe until it's gone?" He looked into her eyes, noticing the fear.

"Like where?" he whispered back. "You can't stay in my room all night. It'll --" he paused, stopping himself from saying, "It'll look suspicious when people wake up the next morning only to find you in my room." He decided to not finish his sentence, and instead continued, saying, "… And I can't walk you back to your house because I left my window open. What if … whatever it is, gets into the house while I'm gone?"

She swallowed hard, unsure of what to do or say, and decided that she would just follow him, wherever he went, and do what he did, whatever he decided to do. Letting go of his sleeve, she silently gave in and continued to follow him through the garden. Once they reached the stone wall, he turned to her and motioned for her to stay quiet and stay put. She sank to the ground in fear, watching as he brought forth two flames of considerable size, one in each hand, and jumped behind the wall.

The first thing she heard was muffled screaming, and even though he told her to stay put, she stood up and ran behind the wall, creating two flames of her own, ready to attack whatever it was that was hurting Iroh. When she rounded the edge of the wall though, she doused her flames and stared in confusion.

Iroh had a mangy looking person in a headlock, covering his mouth as he whispered, "Shut your mouth, you idiot! You'll wake up the whole palace!" Iroh removed his hand from the man's mouth, only to have the man loudly say, "Let go of me, you brat!" Iroh covered his mouth again and said, "We're going to try this again. I'm going to uncover your mouth, and if you shut up, I'll let you go. If you don't … well, I could keep doing this until morning. I don't know about _you_."

Maylin felt an idea arise in her head, brought on by the way Iroh talked to the man. There was only one person she'd heard him insult like that before, and it was…

"Zhou Han?" she questioned, looking into her brother's eyes. Even though he'd only been gone for a little more than a year, he looked so different. "Is that you?"

Iroh uncovered his mouth to let the man speak. "Yes," he said, his voice sounding so much more tired than it had before he left. "It's me."

"What are you doing here?" she questioned, and Zhou Han elbowed Iroh in the stomach. He doubled over, releasing his hold on Zhou Han, who immediately sat down once he was free. Determined to have the last hit, Iroh approached the sitting man, ready to strike him over the head, but Maylin intervened.

"Don't touch him, Iroh," she said calmly. Iroh dropped his arm and marched indignantly to stand behind the sitting Maylin, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes resting on Zhou Han, ready to attack if he tried anything funny.

"What are you doing here?" Maylin repeated her question, staring at her brother, who refused to return her gaze. Only after a second or two did the tired man look up, and stare back into his sister's eyes. When he spoke, he avoided her question.

"How's mother doing? And father?" he asked.

"They're fine," she said, her voice taking on a suspicious tone, wondering why he wasn't answering her question.

"Your sister asked you a question," Iroh said. "Why aren't you answering?" Zhou Han's head shot up as he glared at Iroh, ready to say something, but Maylin stood up and put her hand on Iroh's chest.

"Please, Iroh." she said, looking into his eyes. "I can handle this." He looked back at her worriedly, but submitted to her wish.

"I'll be over there," he said, pointing to a tree about thirty feet away from where they were presently situated. "If you need me, just call," he said to Maylin, looking deep into her eyes. "I'll come over right away."

"I know," she said, confident in his promise. She watched him walk over to the tree and sit down, noticing that he was watching her back and didn't intend to shift his gaze. She sat back down and started talking to her brother.

"I understand if you didn't want to talk while he was here," she said, referring to Iroh. She knew the hatred her brother harbored for her best friend. "But now he's out of earshot. Tell me, what's going on?"

Zhou Han looked back at her with exhausted eyes, glancing once or twice at Iroh. "I guess I can tell you," he said, letting out a long breath. "You are my sister, after all. And I know I can trust you to keep my secrets."

She nodded enthusiastically, encouraging him to keep talking. "Yes. Yes you can trust me."

"Well," Zhou Han said, shifting his weight to a more comfortable position. "I guess it all started when I ran away to join the army …"


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter Nine**_

"**_W_**hat happened when you went to join the army?" Maylin asked.

"They turned me down. They didn't believe me when I said I was eighteen. That surprised me, because my birthday was only a month later, so I would have turned the appropriate age not long after anyway. As frustrated as I was at this, I finally gave in and told them the truth. 'Fine,' I said, 'You're right, I'm not eighteen. But I will be in one month. So why can't I just join now? Why bother waiting for one extra month?' They just looked at me and told me that if I were smart, I'd gladly agree to stay home for another month before joining. But I couldn't go back. Not after I took the money like that from our mother and father."

He sighed, sounding depressed, and Maylin's heart went out to her brother. Even after being a bully to her and Iroh for all those years, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He finally set out to try and make a difference in the world, and the world turned him down.

"Go on," she said soothingly. "I'm listening."

"Like I said before, I couldn't go back home. So I just did whatever I could to survive for the next month. Some nights I was able to sleep outdoors because it was warm enough. On colder nights, I either suffered through it, or found some nice shelter of some sort. For a night or two a nice, older couple let me stay in their barn. That was how it went for a month though. I ran out of money real fast. When my birthday finally rolled around, I marched back to the army services and told them I was now eighteen. They took me, but begrudgingly. I don't think they had really believed me in the first place when I said I was turning eighteen soon."

Maylin nodded, realizing how it could have seemed like a lie. She waited for her brother to continue.

"Everything was going fine at first, or so it seemed. I was always picked on because I was the youngest. Actually, there were other guys there that were eighteen, but they all had proof. I was the one that everyone thought was the guy who lied about his age to get in. They didn't really think I was eighteen. It took me almost two weeks to finally make a friend. And by that time they already had me fighting in battles. It was rough …" he said, his voice trailing off, sounding as if he didn't want to relive those memories. Maylin cringed, sure that he didn't want to recount the war stories. She waited in silence, wanting him to continue when he was ready.

"So one day I had enough. I was being treated like dirt in the army. I was always put in the front lines, most likely in hopes that I would get killed, or at least mortally wounded so they could send me back home. When night time rolled around, I gathered up my stuff and high-tailed it out of there. We were way up north when I deserted," he said thoughtfully. "So it took me a while to get back down here. But I finally made it into this town last night. I was … unsure about going home right away," he said hesitatingly. "I thought maybe mother and father wouldn't take me back. So after wandering around in the alleys for the day, I decided to sleep here tonight. The palace was a peaceful place where I wouldn't get disturbed. At least," he paused, eyeing Iroh. "that's what I _thought _when I got here." He switched his gaze back to his sister, who was still patiently listening. "And that's about it. I'm still debating whether or not I should go home."

Maylin hesitated, not wanting to tell her brother news he wouldn't want to hear, but also knowing it wouldn't do him any good to lie to him. "Actually … isn't the punishment for deserting the army … death?" She nervously observed the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with her brother.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I think so. But you see," he said, continuing in a slightly louder tone, "that's why I can't go back. By now they already found out I ran away. And if I rejoin the army, they could kill me. But if I go home … well, I don't know what mother and father will think of me after I deserted _them _like that."

"I'm sorry," Maylin said. "I don't know what I can do to help you." She paused, looking around, wondering how to word what was on her mind. "You see, Father seems like the type to … well, want to send you back to the army if you ever did return home. You know? He's big on honor and stuff like that." She paused. "But then, if that did happen, you'd end up getting killed."

"I know," he said. "I've already run through all the possible options. The truth is," he said, sighing. "there's just nothing left for me. I may as well just give up."

"No, don't do that," she said gently. "I'm sure there's something you can do." She stopped to think for a second. "What about a job? You could get someone in town to hire you. Then you could make a living and start a new life."

"I thought about that," he said. "But everyone around here would recognize me. Besides, I don't really have any skills besides fighting. Who would want to hire me?"

"I'm sure you could find something in a town nearby." she said hopefully. "There's a lot of jobs out there that don't require too much skill. Or you could always become apprenticed to someone and learn a new trade. Either way," she said, getting excited. "you still have a chance for a job and a better life."

"Okay," he said slowly, her words and enthusiasm starting to encourage him. "But what about food and other necessities? I'm sure the closest town I could get to where people _don't _know who I am is at least three days away."

"I could provide you with some food. And I'm sure Iroh would chip in, too." she said.

Zhou Han raised an eyebrow in doubt. "Are you sure about that? I think he kind of … hates me."

"But he'll give you some if I tell him to," she said, smiling. "I got him to sit thirty feet away over by that tree, didn't I?"

"Yes you did, little sister, you did," he said admiringly. "Why is it that he listens to you like that? I mean, are you two … together? Or something?" he asked.

"Uh, well, not exactly," she said, blushing slightly and breaking eye contact. "We're best friends, you know, and it's been that way for years, but lately --"

"But lately you're beginning to wonder if there isn't something more?" he interrupted, looking at her with a gentle expression on his face.

"Yeah," she said quietly. That was exactly how she felt. "How did you know?"

"You seem to be forgetting that I was a teenager at one point in my life," he said smiling. "Actually, I still am." he said, laughing a little bit. "I'm only nineteen. But I sure feel a lot older than that."

"So … you would approve, though, right?" she asked quietly.

"Of you and Iroh?" he questioned, and she nodded. He sighed, thinking the question over. Even though she really didn't seek for his approval in such matters, she still felt it would put her at ease to hear him say the words.

"Let's just put it this way: I personally don't like him. But he has all the right qualities. He seems to be protective and caring, strong, friendly …" he paused, trying to think of other traits that he would want to see in a man when it came to marrying off his sister. " … intelligent, and most importantly, I think he really respects you as a person."

Maylin nodded, glad that her brother could appreciate and respect her judgment. Maybe he wasn't as bad or bully-like as she remembered him.

"Not that you would have to worry about marriage any time soon," he said. "You're still only fourteen, right?"

She nodded silently. "So does that mean you had your celebration ball?" he asked. She nodded again. "You took Iroh, no doubt … I just wish I could have been there, too." Maylin smiled, pleasantly surprised that her brother had matured for the single year he'd been gone. It meant a lot to her to hear him say that he wished he was there, even if Iroh _was _the one she danced with.

"You know what just crossed my mind, though?" Zhou Han asked his sister, shifting his weight to a different position. "If you marry him, you'll be the Fire Lady one day. That's a promising future."

"Zhou Han," she said, scolding her brother. "I wouldn't marry Iroh merely to gain a higher position for myself."

"But even so, it's a smart move." Maylin simply rolled her eyes, not surprised that her brother hadn't changed in one aspect; his desire for power.

"Is it okay if I call him back over here now?" she asked, shivering a little bit as a breeze started up. "That is, assuming you're done with your story."

"Yes, I'm done." he said. "You can call him over again." Zhou Han stood up, brushing himself off. "But I'll be going over there," he pointed to a little sheltered looking area that was formed by some bushes and trees. "And see what he thinks about providing me with food and the like for my journey to the next town." Maylin nodded, turning around to motion to Iroh that he should come back now while she heard her brother stand up and start to walk in the opposite direction. Iroh didn't need any motioning, though, for he had seen Zhou Han get up to leave and he was already on his way back.

"How'd it go? What did you talk about?" Iroh asked as he approached Maylin. The girl shrugged, and responded by saying, "He kind of doesn't want me to talk about it."

"Well, you can tell me right? You tell me everything," he said, his voice sounding disappointed.

"Later," she said quietly, not sure if Zhou Han was listening in on them or not. "Let's … take a walk." She said a little louder, thinking that maybe if her brother was listening, he would get the hint and go away. Iroh silently agreed and the two started walking in the opposite direction that Zhou Han had taken. They walked like that in silence for a minute or two, until they came to the flowerbed that Ilah had planted in the corner of the garden. The two sat on the ground, watching the beautiful flowers as they swayed in the wind. Maylin was the first to break the silence.

"He wants some food and money to take with him when he goes job hunting in the next town." She started off. "I can provide him with some, but … if I give him too much, my parents will notice the loss and get suspicious." She paused, looking at him, though he didn't look back. "He was wondering -- we were _both _wondering -- if you would be willing to give some."

Iroh hesitated before answering. But when he finally spoke, Maylin had to smile at what he said. "Fine. I'll give him some food and money. But only because you asked me to, not because he wants me to."

She laughed, and laid her head on his shoulder. "I figured you'd say that." A second later, she yawned, stretching her legs out on the grass in front of her.

"Are you getting tired?" he asked. "It _is _the middle of the night … and we've been out here for a little over a half an hour, I'm guessing."

"No, I'm not tired," she said, but another yawn proved otherwise. He gave her a look, and she smiled, admitting, "Okay, I _am _tired. But I don't want to go back home. I want to stay here, with you." Before he had a chance to respond, a series of shivers went down her spine, and he felt every single one of them, as her body was right next to his.

"You're freezing," he commented, noticing for the first time that night that she was only wearing her night gown. "You should go home before you catch a cold."

"I'll be fine," she insisted, not sure why she so desperately wanted to stay when her body was telling her that she physically couldn't take being awake and outside for much longer.

"No," he said, standing up and pulling her up with him. "You need to get home. Come on, let's go."

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked.

"I'm walking you home," he said, as if the answer should have been obvious.

"I'll be fine," she said. "It's only a five minute walk. You don't need to worry about me."

"It's dark and cold out, Maylin," he said firmly. "There's no way I'm letting you walk home alone."

"Well, what if I told you I wasn't going to let _you _walk home alone once you've dropped me off at my house?"

"Nonsense, I'll be fine," he said, brushing the subject off. "We should start going now before it gets any later."

"Iroh," she said firmly, looking him in the eyes. "I'm telling you that I will be fine." His gaze remained firm, just like hers, but he knew there was no convincing her.

"Fine," he said. "But at least take this with you so you won't be so cold," he said, taking his robe off.

"But Iroh," she said as he draped it around her shoulders. "You don't even have a shirt on. I at least have this night gown."

"If you can walk home alone tonight, then I think I can make it to my room without a shirt on."

"It defeats the whole purpose of me coming here tonight, though," she said, trying to hold back a smile at the irony of it all.

"No it doesn't," he said lightly. "You got to see me, didn't you?" She smiled, remembering that she _did _mention how she didn't see any harm in coming to visit him.

"I guess you're right about that," she said, looking into his eyes.

"Be careful on your way back, okay?" he said, and she nodded, wondering when he had leaned in so close to her face. Without saying another word, he gently brought his hand up to her face and pressed his lips against hers. Her heart fluttered, and she kissed him back. After a little bit, they both pulled away, and she glanced at the ground, blushing.

"Bye," she whispered.

"Bye," he whispered back, and she turned around and started on her way back home, hugging his robe tightly around her. She breathed in deeply, smelling his scent on the robe, and a smile erupted on her face. Tonight could not have gone perfecter, she thought. And it didn't even bother her that perfecter wasn't a word.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter Ten**_

"Heh, heh, heh…" Iroh chuckled to himself as he remembered that first kiss he gave to Maylin. Looking back on the memories, he questioned himself why it took him so long to finally make his best friend his girlfriend. The attraction was always there, pulling them ever closer together … but for some reason it didn't pull them into that first kiss until he was sixteen.

He glanced at the medium-sized box sitting on the wooden bench next to him. It almost mocked him, the way it just sat there, enticing him to open it up and read the letters inside. He wanted to read them, too, but he somehow knew that opening them up would break his heart, because Maylin wasn't here to read them with him.

"She … isn't here," he said to himself, and the realization hit him that she wasn't at the market, and she wasn't in the garden either. She was gone. That was part of the reason some of those letters were sitting in the box next to him in the first place. Only _part _of the reason though. Not all of it.

He gave into the temptation, and took out the letter that lay on top of the others; the one he had first glanced at. Opening it up, he began to read, thinking to himself that he would recognize her manuscript anywhere, even if she did write it when she was only sixteen years old.

-----------------------------

**_A_**n eighteen-year-old Iroh lay on his bed, watching the sun as it slowly set outside his window. He relaxed his eyes, though he wasn't intending to fall asleep this early, reliving the day he had just spent with Maylin. The two of them had gone on a long picnic together, spending most of the afternoon talking rather than eating. For two whole years they'd considered themselves a couple, leaving a lot of girls Iroh's age depressed, but he wouldn't have had it any other way. There was just something different about Maylin. She didn't like him for one or two traits, she liked him because of all of them. And she didn't merely tolerate his bad qualities, she liked him in spite of them. She accepted those traits as part of who he was. And besides all that, they'd known each other for years. They had a such a solid friendship, it was only natural that it would blossom into love.

At that moment, a knocking was heard on his bedroom door. "Come in," he said, recognizing the knock, as hard as that was for even him to believe. The door opened to reveal Maylin, and he silently congratulated himself for being right.

"I had a feeling it was you," he said, patting the bed beside him. "Come, sit down. What are you doing still here? I thought you were going home."

She made her way over to the bed and sat on it, and he noticed she was holding a scroll in his hands. He didn't ask about it, though, imagining she would explain soon enough. Just as he'd guessed, she held the scroll out for him to take, and started saying, "I was about to start back to my house when a messenger came to the palace with this scroll. He said it was for you. Lady Ilah asked if I could bring it up to you, so I did."

"What does it say?" he asked curiously, not even bothering to open the scroll.

"I didn't read it," she said. "It's your scroll, not mine."

He swelled on the inside, pleased that Maylin had been courteous enough to not read it because it wasn't meant for her. Although he wouldn't have minded if she had read it ahead of time.

Untying the string around the middle, he unrolled it, and began to read silently to himself. Maylin eagerly watched his expression, hoping his face would give away what the scroll said. She watched, starting to get worried when his eyebrows knit into a furrow.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked, and he rolled the scroll back up, placing it on the nightstand beside his bed.

"I'm being drafted," he said, not looking at her. "Into the army."

"What?" she said. "But you're the Fire Lord's son … Prince Iroh! You're the heir to the throne. They can't do that!"

"Yes, they can," he said dryly. "They can draft anyone who is of age."

She stayed silent for a second or two, knowing that what he said was true, whether she wanted it to be or not. She started wringing her hands, positive that there had to be some way to get Iroh out of this predicament. Turning her head to look at him, though he didn't return the gaze, she tried to read his face, wondering if he wanted to go or not.

"Are you going to go?" she said, barely above a whisper.

"Of course," he answered, though not enthusiastically. "I have to go. I have no choice."

"But if you did have a choice," she said hopefully. "Would you still go?"

He nodded, still not looking at her. "If they needed me, I would. Everyone needs to do their part to win the war. Looks like my part is helping with the actual fighting."

Her lower lip trembled and she tried not to sound selfish as she said, "But … what about me? What about us?"

For the first time since he read the scroll, he turned to look at her. "I don't know what'll happen," he said, trying to be honest. "I don't know how long they'll need me for, or how long the war will last. I don't know anything."

"When are you leaving?" she asked, tears brimming her eyes.

"The scroll said I have one week from the day I receive the message," he said. "I need to go to the nearest place of service and sign up. They'll tell me what to do from there."

Maylin's voice was barely audible as she broke down crying, saying, "One week is all we have left?"

He didn't say anything, also feeling his insides get turned upside down after having received the news. He brought her into a gentle hug, caressing her head as she cried onto his shoulder.

"It's not fair," she wept. "You were mine first…"

"And I'll _always _be yours," he added, trying to soothe her.

"Why did they have to … take you away?" she said in between sobs.

Not sure how to answer her, he just tightened his embrace around her, his own eyes threatening to fill with tears if he thought too much about leaving. He tried to remind himself that he still had her right now, and he would for another week to come.

Crying wore her out, as it always did, and by the time she had cried out all the tears there were inside of her, the sun had set and the stars were out already. Knowing she was about to fall asleep anyway, he told her that she could sleep in his bed tonight.

"Where are you going to sleep?" she asked through half-closed eyes.

"The bed is big enough for two people," he answered.

Her eyes shot opened and she stared at him. "I wanted to wait … for marriage …" she stuttered, and she hoped he wouldn't get mad at her.

"That's not what I was suggesting," he said, smiling. "But even so, I respect that. We won't do anything until you're ready." He moved to the far side of the bed. "I'll stay over here … and you can stay over there."

She smiled at him, tempted to laugh at how he made everything seem so simple. She turned on her side, her back facing him. "Goodnight," she whispered, thinking to herself that maybe this wouldn't be the last time she said those words to him while he was only on the other side of the bed.

"Goodnight," he said, and she fell asleep.

-----------------------------

She rolled over in her bed, reaching her hand over the edge to feel her nightstand that always had a glass of water on it in case she got thirsty in the middle of the night. Her hand met nothing. Opening her eyes in confusion, she looked around her. This wasn't her room, it was … Iroh's? She rolled over and saw him sleeping on the other side of the bed, only a few feet away from her, his chest rising and falling with each silent breath he took. For a second after she had woken up, she couldn't remember why she was here -- and then it hit her. She had been crying because he was going to leave. He was going to leave her, and go to the army. She felt her heart breaking all over again, and she reached her hand up to touch the area just below her eyes. They felt swollen from weeping.

A sudden fit of panic seized her when she realized her mother would be worrying about her. It was still dark outside, so she couldn't have been asleep for too long, but she never went home after her picnic with Iroh. And Ilah probably assumed she went home after giving Iroh the message, so she wouldn't have said anything about it to Zhen. _Maybe I can still go home_, she thought to herself. _I could just climb out the window and sneak back to my house…_ It couldn't be that hard. Iroh had done it plenty of times before.

Just as she was getting ready to climb out of the bed, some common sense was knocked into her head. Even if she went home then and there, she'd still have to explain her absence to her mother. Staying the rest of the night wouldn't make a difference, really. Besides, Iroh's bed was so soft, and outside was so chilly. And she only had six days left with Iroh anyway. She surrendered to the physical comfort of the bed, and snuggled herself back in, trying to think of a way to explain the situation to her mother when she went home the next day. At least she would have Iroh to vouch for her. Not that that would make her mother any more forgiving.

She slid in closer to Iroh and lifted up his arm, wrapping it around her as she laid her head on his chest. Breathing in deeply and closing her eyes, she attempted to go back to sleep.

But her movements had woken him up, and he opened both eyes to find Maylin snuggled up against him. It didn't take him long to remember why she was there in the first place, and he moved down to make his face even with hers. She opened her eyes in confusion, wondering why he had moved her out of position, only to see him come in for a kiss. Returning his affections, she brought her hand up and ran it through his thick hair. She ran her other hand along his bare chest, feeling the texture of his skin and tightness of his muscles. One of his hands lay on her waist, and the other one fingered the tie on the back of her night gown that kept it on. He remembered what she said about waiting, though, and he didn't go any farther than deepening the kiss.

"Iroh?" she said, her lips still pressed up against his.

"Mm?" he responded, not stopping.

"I love you," she said softly, knowing that now was a good a time as ever to tell him.

He stopped just long enough to look into her eyes and say those words back to her. "I love you, too." She closed her eyes and started kissing him again, and he followed her lead.

When they woke up the next morning, neither one could remember for how long they had shared their affections like that before they fell back asleep. What they did know, though, was when the sun came streaming through the window and rested on their skin, causing them to wake up, the first thing they saw was the other's face, and in a way, it made them feel like everything was going to be okay.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter Eleven**_

"Those were the days, eh Maylin?" Iroh said out loud to no one, still clutching the letter in his hands. "No worries, though … I'll be coming to join you and Lu Ten soon enough." He stood up with a content sigh, for somehow amidst his foggy mind, it became clear that he was dying. Closing his eyes, he struggled to remember the most recent thing that happened in his life … that which happened yesterday.

At that moment, Zuko came outside, calling his name, "Iroh!" he said, "Where are you? It's getting dark. You need to come in now."

"I'm over here," Iroh said back, as loud as his voice would permit him. He watched as the Fire Lord approached him and eyed the box of letters. He looked like he was about to say something when Iroh spoke first.

"Why did you call me Iroh?" he asked.

Zuko stared at him, hoping he hadn't forgotten who he was. "That's your name." he responded.

"Even as Fire Lord, Zuko, I still think you owe me the respect of calling me Uncle."

Zuko's eyes widened and he couldn't help but smile. "You remembered." was all he could say at the moment.

"Of course I did," Iroh said, handing Zuko the box of letters to carry back inside. "How could I forget you? You led me in a futile chase around the world for the Avatar for a few years of my life … and then you betrayed my trust and my love when you took Azula's side," Zuko bowed his head in shame at the mention of his reckless decision. "But you came back. I knew you would. You always did."

"Since you seem to have your memory back…" Zuko said. He paused for a second, wondering how to word the question he was about to ask. "Do you mind me asking … or could you just tell me … what happened to Aunt Maylin?"

Iroh's expression darkened at the mention of Maylin, his thoughts obviously replaying the day she died. It was silent for a while, and Zuko began regretting that he'd asked.

"Never mind," the Fire Lord said. "Forget I asked."

"I can understand why you would want to know about her," Iroh said. "She is, after all, a member of your family as much as mine."

"If you don't want to talk about it, though …" Zuko said, knowing that he shouldn't push his uncle farther than he could take.

"But if I don't tell you, then who will?" Iroh responded, knowing that his time was going to be up soon as it was. Zuko looked at him with hopeful eyes, believing this meant that his uncle was going to tell him the rest of the story. "I'll tell you tomorrow," Iroh said. "After breakfast."

"Okay," Zuko said smiling. "Fair enough."

The two were about to walk inside when Iroh suddenly stopped. "Wait," he said, as if he remembered something. "I need to go check something. I'll be right back." He started walking away, toward the old, gnarled tree that stood just outside his bedroom window. Zuko waited for him anxiously, and started to wonder how it was his uncle seemed to start remembering everything.

When Iroh returned, Zuko noticed he held something small in his closed fist. Curious as to what it might be, Zuko was tempted to ask, but before he could say anything, Iroh slipped it into his pocket. Deciding to leave it alone for now, Zuko led his uncle back inside and into the infirmary.

After helping him into his bed, Zuko took the chair that he had previously sat in and put it back where it belonged. Walking back to his uncle's bedside, he looked down on him, saying, "I'm going to bed now. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, my nephew," Iroh said, closing his eyes and preparing to go to sleep. Zuko shut the door behind him, hoping his uncle didn't mind that he wasn't sleeping in his own bed for the night.

-----------------------------

**_M_**aylin tried her hardest to hold back tears as she waited with Lady Ilah and little Ozai near the entrance to the palace. The three-year-old had no idea what was going on, and kept asking his mother to pick him up. The depressed woman finally obliged, not saying a word as she lifted her son into her cradling arms. She held him close, perhaps imagining her first born son was once again that small, and turned her head to look at the sixteen-year-old girl standing next to her. She was about to say something, when Ozai started talking.

"Where's Iroh, mother?" he asked in a tiny voice.

Ilah looked at her little son, feeling her heart start to melt inside of her. "He's getting ready to go away, Ozai."

"Where is he going?" the innocent child asked.

"He needs to go fight in the war," his mother answered, and Maylin felt a tear roll down her cheek. She wondered if she would ever have a child that would go and fight in the war. She wondered if she would ever have a child at all.

Thoughts of last night ran through her head, of when she went to see Iroh in his room very late at night, just before she was going to go home. But as she climbed the stairs to his room and knocked on the door, she told herself she wouldn't be going home until early the next morning.

He had let her in, saying how she didn't really need to knock, because there was never a time he wasn't going to let her in. She just nodded, thinking that if she started to speak she would cry. He saw the pained expression on her face, and had said, "Please don't be sad."

"How can I not?" she had responded, going to sit on his bed. "You're leaving tomorrow."

"But I'm coming back," he said, lifting up a hand to stroke her hair.

"You don't know that," she whispered, afraid to say the words. She knew there was a possibility of that, though, and she didn't want to lie to herself about it.

"I don't understand how that's possible," he said gently. "when I have a girl like you to come back to."

"That's not what I meant," Maylin said, looking into his eyes. "I didn't mean, what if you don't _want _to come back … I meant, what if you _can't _come back?"

He made a face, and Maylin knew that he understood her correctly the first time she said it, but he didn't want to dwell on the matter. He sighed, unsure of what to say. "Just promise me this," he said. "Write me as often as you can. I'll write back, and I'll save the letters from you. Save the letters from me, too. And if I die … I'll have the letters buried with me, so that I always have a little bit of you with me." She didn't say anything, as those words weren't exactly comforting. "Or, if I get burned, the letters will burn with me," he said.

"And me?" She said. "What will I do?"

"You will continue to live a wonderful life," he responded. "You'll get married, have lots of kids, and grow old. And you'll forever remember me as your best friend."

"That's not good enough," she said, shaking her head. "We're more than just best friends. Besides, I would give up growing old and having lots of kids to be with you in a heart beat."

"How would you do that, though?" he said.

She paused, thinking about her options. A few seconds later, she asked, "Do you think I could pass as an eighteen-year-old boy?"

"No," he said firmly. "You are not going to run away to join the army like your brother did. Even if you could pass for an older boy, which you couldn't, I wouldn't let you."

She sighed, knowing that he would never in a million years have agreed with that option. She herself had to admit it was a reckless decision that she hadn't even considered before that moment.

"You're my driving force," he said suddenly. "You're the reason I want to come back. You give me a reason to try and stay alive no matter what happens out there on the battlefield. If there was any better place for you to wait for me, it's here at the palace. If you're here when I get back … it'll help me hang on, even in the darkest of situations."

She brushed her hair out of her face, understanding every word he was saying. She took a deep breath and started saying what it was she had come into his room to say in the first place. "Well, I've been thinking … you're going to be gone for a long time. And neither of us know when you'll be getting back." She paused, feeling her heart beat in her chest at a thousand miles a minute. "It could be several years, even. We don't know if this is the last time we'll see each other ever, or the last time for a few years, or a decade, or what."

"What are you saying?" he asked.

"I'm saying …" she took a deep breath. "I'm saying for you, I'm ready. Now." She looked into his eyes. "It could be years before you get back. I wouldn't want to make you wait just because _I _wanted to wait until marriage."

He smiled and took her hand. "I couldn't do that to you," he said. "I can tell you're not really ready. You're shaking." She smiled and blushed, about to protest, but he continued. "Besides, I'm willing to wait for you, for as long as I have to. Can you wait for me?"

A smile erupted on her face, and even though she had convinced herself she was ready, she was glad he could tell otherwise. "Yes. I can wait." He brought her into a hug, and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Now," he said, pulling away. "You better get home. We wouldn't want to try and come up with another excuse for you staying the entire night in my room."

She chuckled, almost forgetting that he was leaving tomorrow. "You're right. Bye," she said, and he said likewise, watching her leave the room. He was surprised that she had remained virtually boyfriend-less up until the two of them became a couple. She seemed perfect to him.

-----------------------------

Maylin snapped out of her thoughts just in time to see Iroh approaching her and his mother, all ready to go down to the army services and sign up to join the fighting in the war. Her heart fluttered as she thought how especially handsome he looked, but at the same time she felt her stomach drop to the floor, knowing this was the last time she would see him for a very long time.

He went up to his mother first, hugging both her and his little brother at the same time. Ilah wrapped one arm around his back, as she was holding Ozai in the other arm. Maylin could tell she wanted to cry, but was trying not to. When they pulled away from the hug, Iroh gave his little brother a goofy smile, and roughed up his hair.

"Goodbye, little brother," he said. "I guess next time I see you, you won't be so little."

"Bye-bye, Iroh," Ozai said in such an adorable tone, that it made Maylin want to start crying. This poor little boy didn't comprehend how long his brother would be away for at all.

"I'm sorry your father's not here, Iroh," Ilah said. She was about to start saying something else, when Iroh interrupted.

"No, I already said bye to him in his throne room," he answered. Ilah merely nodded, not surprised that the goodbye between father and son should happen that way. In order to appear strong, her husband rarely ever showed any emotion.

Iroh then turned to Maylin, and gave her a gentle hug. She bit her lip in an attempt not to cry. He then pulled his head back, though he was still embracing her, and gave her a long, steady kiss. Maylin merely closed her eyes, not caring that Lady Ilah was right there. She already knew about them, anyway; they had been together for two years now.

When they pulled away, Iroh started affectionately stroking her hair, and Maylin said, "I hid something in the hollow base of the tree by your window. You can look for it when you come back," she found that thinking about his return helped suppress her desire to cry. "Maybe it will help you hold on, and make you want to come back to find out what it is."

"I have another reason for wanting to come back," he said. "Maylin … will you marry me?"

She looked into his eyes. They were filled with love and hope for a future. She wasn't sure what to say, but finally said, "Iroh … I'm only sixteen."

"You won't be sixteen when I get back, though," he said. "The day I come home can be our wedding day."

She smiled, looking into the eyes of her fiancé. "Yes. I'll marry you once you get back." Happiness filled every inch of his being, and he gave her another kiss. "Although," she said, when they pulled away. "I don't know that it will be the _same exact _day that you get back."

"That's fine with me," he said, his eyes sparkling. "The day after works, too."

"Iroh!" she said, and she couldn't help but laugh. He watched her as she laughed with delight, and noticed the small space in between her two front teeth on the top. He made a mental note to himself, that one of the first things he would look for in her when he got back was that little space. He knew she would look different when he came home; they both would, but that little space would always be there.

He gave each woman one final hug, and then started on his way, carrying a pack on his back. Once he was out of sight, Ilah turned to her future daughter-in-law and said, "Would you like to stay at the palace tonight? You can stay in Iroh's room, if you wish."

"Um, is that okay, Lady Ilah?" Maylin asked. The woman smiled and nodded.

"I already talked about it with your mother. And I certainly don't mind. You can stay at the palace any night you want to." The two started walking back inside, Lady Ilah clutching a sleeping Ozai. "Besides," she continued. "You'll need to get used to living in the palace if you're going to succeed me as wife of the Fire Lord."

"Oh, Lady Ilah," Maylin said, shocked, for she just realized that the future her brother wanted for her was going to come true. "I don't really care to be the Fire Lady."

"Well, dear," the older woman said, smiling. "I didn't really think about that when I married Azulon. But the position comes with the husband," she said, laughing.

"I guess you're right, Lady Ilah," Maylin answered as she still tried to comprehend the idea in her mind. "I guess you're right."


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter Twelve**_

**_N_**eedless to say, Iroh and Maylin exchanged many letters. Her letters always took longer to get to him, though, since he was on the move a lot. It was easier for him to send one to her, and he always addressed to the palace, because he knew if the messenger saw that was its destination, he would take care to see that it got there. Besides, Maylin was over the palace often enough, either getting used to the lifestyle there or helping Lady Ilah out with raising Ozai. It was mostly the latter, though, among other things, such as keeping herself busy with a lot of cleaning. She also took up the hobby of sewing, and was eventually skilled enough to make young Ozai some clothes.

With the passage of time, though, many things are forgotten. After a year of Iroh's absence, Maylin forgot about the treasure she hid in the hollow of the tree outside his room. And Iroh, with many other things on his mind, forgot even before she did. They were both too focused on keeping up their love, which was difficult through a long distance relationship. The letters were able to keep it strong, though, and with every letter he wrote, Iroh remembered his mother's advice about choosing what you say carefully, because words can either help or hurt. With every letter he wrote on those notes to Maylin, he hoped with all his heart they were helping.

One day, as Maylin was outside in the garden, tending to the flowers, she heard an excited voice calling to her from the palace.

"Maylin! Maylin!" The young woman, now twenty-four years old, stood up from her bent position and wiped off her brow. She scanned the palace to see where the voice was coming from, and rested her eyes on the slim figure of Lady Ilah.

"What is it, Lady Ilah?" she yelled back, leaving her gardening tools on the ground as she approached where the older woman stood.

"It's a letter from Iroh!" the woman yelled back, waving a parchment in her hands. Maylin broke out in a run after hearing that, so much so that she was panting when she reached where Ilah was standing.

"What does it say?' Maylin said in between breaths.

"I haven't read it yet," Ilah said. "But it was addressed to all of the family, so I let Azulon read it first. He just gave it back to me and said I better get you and read it with you."

"Oh, I hope everything's alright," Maylin said, starting to get worried.

"I tried to find Ozai," Ilah said, not commenting on Maylin's anxiousness. "but I couldn't find him anywhere. I guess I'll just have to mention it to him at the table tonight." The two women walked inside, and Ilah sat in a large chair, Maylin hovering over her shoulder.

"Dear Family," Ilah said, reading out loud. "I have some very exciting news. I was fighting in a battle yesterday and broke my arm." Ilah paused, feeling confused, and Maylin burst out laughing.

"That's just like him, to think that was exciting!" she said, though she still couldn't shake off the feeling of nervousness that resulted from hearing he got injured.

"The doctor here said it would take a few months to heal, as the break was pretty serious," Ilah continued once Maylin calmed down. "and that I was restrained from fighting during that time. The general was upset when he heard the news, for he had considered me a very valuable asset to our unit. However he couldn't argue with what the doctor said, and has given me a leave of absence during the time it will take for my arm to heal. That means I'll be coming home."

Maylin squealed with delight when Ilah read that sentence, and Ilah paused to wipe a tear of happiness from her eye. However there was still more to the letter, and so she kept reading.

"I was so grateful that he did that for me, that I made him a cup of tea and told him how excited I was to be going home. He asked me why, and I said because when I get home, I'm going to get married. He was intrigued by this statement, and I ended up telling him the story of how I had Maylin waiting at home for me, and how we promised to be wed the day I got back … or the day after. Whichever one works best."

Maylin covered her mouth to hide her delighted smile. She didn't laugh, though, because she wanted Ilah to continue reading.

"He was so touched by my story, that he agreed to give me a whole two years for my leave of absence! He said that I needed more than just a few months to be with my family, especially if I was going to get married. He also said that when I returned to fight in the army, if I was still as good as I was now, he might consider promoting me. It later occurred to me that maybe his being so lenient with me had to do with the fact that Fire Lord Azulon is my father, and I am heir to the throne. But that doesn't bother me. Considering how long it will take for this message to arrive at the palace, I'm estimating that by the time you read this, I will already be halfway done my trip home. Expect me in four days. Your loving Son/Brother/Fiancé, Iroh."

"Four days?" Ilah said, standing up. "Oh my goodness! That's not nearly enough time to prepare!" The flustered woman started pacing back and forth. Maylin reached out to grab her shoulders and calm her down.

"Lady Ilah!" she said, smiling. "There's not much to prepare. A simple cleaning of the palace shouldn't take four days. And I'm sure Iroh isn't expecting a huge celebration when he gets back."

"But dear!" Ilah said, looking surprised that Maylin had forgotten. "You're getting married in four days!"

Maylin's smile immediately fell off her face and she fell backwards into the chair that Ilah had previously been sitting in. "Four days …" she said, looking at Ilah. "I'm getting married. In four days!" She stood up and threw her hands into the air. "Four days!" She walked out of the room, still shocked by the whole situation, and ran upstairs to Iroh's room, where she had been staying for the past eight years.

Ilah watched her walk away, and couldn't help but smile. Brides were supposed to be happy about their wedding. And Maylin would be too, sure enough, just as soon as she got over the stress of preparing.

-----------------------------

"I can't do this," she said to herself as she lay on Iroh's bed, for, even after eight years, she still considered it his. "I can't go through with this. I haven't seen him in several years. What if he's not the same? What if he doesn't love me anymore? What if this is the biggest mistake of my life?" She rolled onto her stomach, clutching the pillow and smelling it. It still smelled like him, or so she assumed. She couldn't remember for sure because it had been so long since she'd actually seen him in person.

"What if we get married and it ends up being a total disaster? What if we think everything is going to be okay, and then it just explodes in our faces?" Her mind was racing, filling her thoughts with every possible thing that could go wrong. They had made the promise to get married when they were still teenagers. What if that was a reckless decision? What if when he came home, they realized that they couldn't be anything more than friends?

She sighed, trying to clear her mind. In his letter he had sounded pretty confident. He sounded like he still loved her. After all, the reason he was getting two whole years off was because he had told the general he was getting married. If anything, they should get married because of that. She paused, laughing at herself. No, they shouldn't get married just to appease the general. They should get married because they love each other. Because they've known each other for twenty years. Because of all the times they kissed. Because of the first time they said to one another, "I love you."

Because they were perfect for each other.

Because it was destiny.

Because he was her protector.

Because she would die without him.

The reasons just kept coming. She didn't have to question herself or her motives any longer. She sat on her knees on the bed, and picked up Iroh's pillow, hugging against her chest tightly and squealing like a little school girl.

"I'm getting married! I'm getting married!" She yelled happily, collapsing onto the bed beneath her. And not just to anyone. To the absolute, most perfect man in the world. Iroh. Prince Iroh. He was a prince. The realization just hit her. After knowing him for twenty years, it suddenly crossed her mind that he was indeed royalty. She laughed giddily, wondering why it never really struck home until just now. Probably because he never really acted like a prince. He was just … himself.

She stood up from the bed and put the pillow back in its place, smoothing out the sheets while she was at it. She ran to the closet and opened up the door, taking out a long robe of hers. Even though she still had a lot of her possessions at her mother's house, some of it she had moved into the closet in Iroh's room because she was at the palace so much more often.

Taking the robe in her hands, she began to spin around the room, as if she were dancing with someone. With Iroh, of course. She wondered what he looked like now. Maybe he had a beard or some type of facial hair now … she paused, wondering if she would like that. Shrugging, she decided she'd have to wait and see what it looked like on him before she could decide. Maybe he was taller. She laughed at the thought of that. He always was on the short side. At least he wasn't shorter than her. She wondered if his eyes still sparkled like they did when they were children. Hopefully, she thought; the sparkle was mysterious and attractive at the same time. She liked it.

A few seconds later, a thought crossed her mind, and she ran downstairs to where Ilah was in the kitchen, talking to the chef about food for the wedding. Maylin approached her and waited for the two to be finished talking. When they were done, she put her hands on Ilah's shoulders excitedly and said, "Lady Ilah! Where will we hold it? What time of day? Who should we invite? … What will I wear?"

"I'm beginning to think that having the wedding the day Iroh gets home is a little too soon," Ilah said, stress etched onto her face. "Maybe it should be a week after, or something."

"No, I don't mind if it's a simple wedding with only a few guests," Maylin responded. "Besides, the people that matter will already be here, if we hold it at the palace. You, Fire Lord Azulon, Ozai … and I'm sure my mother and father will come."

"Are you sure about this?" Ilah asked. "It's your wedding day. It should be all you want it to be."

"That _is _all I want it to be," Maylin insisted. "I've been waiting for this day for seventeen years!"

"Seventeen?" Ilah said, a little confused. "Are you sure you did that correctly? I thought it was only eight."

Maylin smiled, saying, "Well, maybe not _waiting _for it all that time. And maybe I wasn't positive it was going to happen until just eight years ago. But I remember one time, when me and Iroh were younger … we were by the turtle-duck pond, and we were talking about him becoming the Fire Lord. He asked me if I would want to be his Fire Lady when we grew up … and I said yes." Maylin laughed, knowing that at the time they didn't know what they were talking about. She still liked to think of it as fate, though. "And then he said, 'Great! Now I'm all set for the rest of my life!'"

Ilah burst out laughing, thinking to herself that her son always had something positive to say. "You know, when you started telling me that story, I was beginning to wonder if you were remembering correctly. After all, it was quite a long time ago. But," she said, wiping a tear from her eye because she had laughed so hard, "after hearing that statement, I find it hard _not _to believe Iroh would say something like that!"

Maylin smiled, agreeing with Ilah's statement. Ilah then took Maylin's hand and the two started walking away.

"Where are we going?" Maylin asked curiously.

"Why, dear," she said, looking back at the young woman. "We have a wedding to plan!"


	13. Chapter 13

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

"**_T_**oday's the day," she thought to herself as she woke up one sunny morning. "He's coming back today. I'll see him for the first time in eight years!" Practically jumping out of bed, Maylin ran over to the bowl full of water and took the washcloth in hand so she could wash her face and start the day. After doing so, she pulled the prettiest dress that she had out of the closet and laid it on the bed. She then walked back over to the closet and pulled out her wedding dress, holding it up to her body and spinning around. Her and Ilah had gone out and bought it the day after they received Iroh's message, and Maylin thought it was just about the prettiest dress she'd ever seen. Carefully placing it back in the closet, she went over and started changing into the dress she'd laid out on the bed.

She then proceeded to fix her hair in the loveliest fashion she knew, and applied the most flattering makeup she owned, taking care to make herself look extra beautiful. When everything was perfect, she went downstairs to the dining hall to eat breakfast.

"You look breathtaking," Ilah said as Maylin sat down to join her at the table. "Just to warn you, Iroh probably won't look as stunning. He's coming back from war, after all."

Maylin laughed. "I know. But that doesn't mean I can't dress up for him."

"True, very true," Ilah said, smiling. She turned to her other son, Ozai, who was eating in silence at the table.

"Your brother is coming back today, Ozai." she said. "Aren't you excited?"

"I was only three when he left, mother," Ozai said. "I don't even remember anything about him. It'll be like having a complete stranger come home claiming to be part of my family."

"Well, he's not a stranger, I'll tell you that," Ilah said. "I'm sure you'll remember something about him when he comes back." She failed to observe Ozai roll his eyes.

Maylin took a few bites and then pushed her plate away. "I'm finished," she said. "I'm going to go watch for Iroh." she started to get up from the table when Ilah stopped her.

"Slow down, Maylin. You barely even ate breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," she insisted.

"But still, it could be hours before he gets back. He didn't specify what time of day he'd be arriving."

"And that means it _could _be only minutes!" she said, though Maylin herself doubted that was true. "It's okay, I'll work on some sewing as I watch from his window."

Ilah simply sighed as she watched the young woman scamper away.

"Mother, why does Maylin call that room 'his'?" Ozai asked. "He hasn't used it for years. She _should _call it her own."

"She can call it whatever she wants to," Ilah said. "Technically, it is still Iroh's."

"But he doesn't use it." Ozai insisted. "Just like the birthright to the throne. Technically, it _is _still Iroh's. But he's never around anymore."

"Ozai!" Ilah said, glaring at her son. "Eat your breakfast!"

-----------------------------

Maylin ran up to Iroh's room and sat down on the bed. She immediately felt her hair to make sure it was still in position on her head. Satisfied with it, she went to the dresser and picked up a sewing needle and some cloth off the top of it. She then positioned a chair near the window and started sewing. She found herself unable to sit still, though, and was constantly glancing up to make sure he wasn't walking toward the palace. This went on for an hour or two, and Maylin's hands started to hurt because of the precise movements she had to make while sewing. Not to mention the countless times she'd pricked her fingers because she wasn't paying attention to what she was doing.

Setting her project down, she resorted to just staring out the window, her elbows propped up on the sill. She observed the beautiful blue sky, wondering if it always looked so bright and festive around this time of day. Her eyes wandered through the garden in the back of the palace, past the stone wall and to the turtle-duck pond, and even all the way to the corner, where Ilah's flowerbed was still prospering very nicely.

She sighed, wondering how long it would take for Iroh to get home. Maybe she should go and do something productive while she was waiting. She picked herself up and walked downstairs, wondering if her mother and father had come over to the palace yet. Ilah had told them the news the day that Iroh's message had arrived, and they both said they would be there the day he got back, just in case the wedding was held that day. So far, it looked like it would be. It all depended on what time Iroh got back.

-----------------------------

Iroh breathed in heavily as he walked along the dusty, dirt road that led to the town he lived in. Things started to look familiar when he passed by a blacksmith's store and forgery, and he smiled at the thought of finally coming home.

The pack he had slung around his arm was getting a little heavy, especially since he couldn't switch it to the other arm. He stopped for a second to readjust its position. He didn't know having a broken arm could be so troublesome.

At least the Fire Nation Army uniform wasn't as uncomfortable as he first thought it would be. After eight years of wearing the same style, he'd gotten used to it. He wondered what Maylin would think of it when he finally got home and she saw him wearing it. He wondered what she'd think of him in general.

He hadn't changed too much, at least not in his own opinion. Compared to the last time he saw her, though, he assumed he would be different to her. And she would be different to him. But they would still love each other, just as they always had, right?

He started to feel a little uneasy as doubt crept into his mind. If his family had all the preparations ready, today wasn't only the day he was coming home, but also his wedding day. _Wedding day_. The words echoed in his thoughts, and he started to wonder if he was ready.

But he couldn't back down now. They'd both come so far. Maylin had been living at the palace for the most part during these past eight years, helping to raise Ozai, helping out in general, and waiting for him. Waiting… he remembered one of the last conversations he had with Maylin before he left.

"_Besides, I'm willing to wait for you, for as long as I have to. Can you wait for me?"_

He was being honest when he said those words. But could he live up to the promise he made? He thought back to all the letters he'd written to Maylin, and all the letters she'd written back. Eight years' worth of those letters were stuffed into his pack. He even had to leave a few things behind in order to fit them in there, because there was no way he was going to leave them behind. When he spotted a tree by the side of the road, he decided to sit underneath of it for a bit, in order to enjoy the shade and read through a few of those letters.

He took out the most recent one, the one that she'd written just before he broke his arm and received his leave of absence. She talked about how she considered herself the luckiest person in the world, because she had him to look forward to everyday she woke up.

"Every morning when I wake up and get out of bed, I think to myself, 'That's one day closer. One less day I have to wait through.' Because with every day that passes, I'm that much closer to seeing you again." He closed his eyes, trying to remember her face, trying to remember what she looked like when he left her at the tender age of sixteen. But all he could remember was they way her laugh sounded, and how her face looked when she was smiling.

_But that doesn't matter_, he told himself. _Because you don't love her because of her looks. You love her because of who she is. And who she is has been poured out in these letters right here._ He smiled nostalgically as he remembered how he told her if he died, he would die with the letters strapped to him, because it meant he would always have a little piece of her with him, even in death.

Why was he going to marry her? Because he loved her. Because he made a promise. Because she was willing to wait for him for eight years, and he should be able to return the favor. Because she was his first, just as he was hers, and they would remain that way for the rest of their lives.

Because they were one soul in two bodies.

Because of every single night he'd ever dreamt about her.

Because she was the driving force that kept him going.

Because he would die without her.

-----------------------------

"It's getting late," Maylin said to Ilah as the two of them waited outside, not far from the palace gates. She observed the setting sun and guessed that it would be dark in about an hour. "What if he doesn't get back until it's really dark?"

"Then the wedding will have to be tomorrow," Ilah said.

"I'm beginning to think that even if he comes walking down that road right now, the wedding should still be tomorrow," Maylin observed. "By the time I finished getting ready, and by the time he, and everyone else finished getting ready, it would practically be the next day anyway."

Ilah chuckled at that. "You're right about that, Maylin. But we'll start preparations early tomorrow."

Maylin nodded. "Okay."

A good amount of time passed in silence between the two women. She didn't seem to notice it at first, but Maylin had started nodding off once or twice. One time after jerking her head up and suddenly opening her eyes, she noticed that it was dark and the stars were just starting to come out. She turned to Ilah, who was sitting next to her. The older woman looked at her and said, "It's starting to get a little cold. I think I'm going to go inside and go to sleep."

"But what if he comes, Lady Ilah?" Maylin asked. "Do you want me to wake you up?"

"No, child," Ilah said as she smiled and stood up. "I've been waiting for him to come back for eight years. One more night won't make any difference." The older woman put her hand on Maylin's shoulder. "Do you want me to bring you a robe or a blanket?" she asked.

"No," Maylin said, shaking her head. "I'll be fine."

"Will you be okay out here? What if you fall asleep?" she said, looking concerned.

"Then Iroh will wake me up when he comes," Maylin said, smiling.

"Okay," Ilah said as she yawned. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, dear."

"Goodnight, Lady Ilah," Maylin responded. Not long after Ilah left to go inside, Maylin slouched down a little bit in the chair and her head lolled off to the side. She had fallen fast asleep.

-----------------------------

Iroh smiled triumphantly when the palace gates came into view. He looked up at the sky to quickly observe the stars twinkling down on him. "Well," he said to himself. "I don't think I'll be getting married today. Maybe tomorrow," he chuckled, imagining what it would be like to have a wedding under the stars. Very romantic, actually, now that he thought about it. Except maybe a little too cold, he reminded himself as he shivered slightly.

When he finally approached the gates, the palace guards opened it up for him, greeting him as he walked in.

"Good evening, Prince Iroh. Welcome home."

"Thank you," he said politely as he smiled at them, wondering if they really recognized him or if Ilah told them to keep a lookout.

Walking onto the palace grounds, he half expected a handful of people to come running out of nowhere, attacking him with hugs and kisses. But nothing happened. His feet trod silently against the grass, although with every step he took he felt heavier and more tired than before. Stopping in his tracks, he wondered which way he should enter the palace, when he suddenly noticed a figure sitting in a chair near the main entrance. Doing a half-smile, for he was almost certain he knew who it was, he started making his way up the steps with renewed vigor.

He panted after reaching the top, and set his bag down next to an empty chair. He laid his eyes on Maylin for the first time in eight years. A smile spread across his face as he observed how different, and yet at the same time, how very much the same, she looked. Her hair was still that dark shade of brown, and he was sure that her eyes, even though they were closed with slumber, looked the same as well. Her skin was just as fair, her body just as slim, though more adult looking now. She looked like a sleeping princess as she lay with her head beautifully positioned to the side. Although, he reminded himself, she _was _going to be a princess after she married him.

In a way, he didn't want to wake her up because she looked so perfect. But at the same time he wanted to see her awake and moving, animated and speaking. Smiling mischievously, for he knew the perfect way to wake her up, he sat down in the empty chair that was next to her and gently held her face with his good hand, kissing her softly.

"Mmm?" she groaned as she woke up. Opening her eyes, her senses suddenly became aware that someone was kissing her. Focusing her attention on the face right in front of her, she squealed with delight when she recognized who it was.

"Iroh!" she said, pulling away and jumping up. He laughed as he stood up, and pulled her in close, his good arm around her waist.

"You're back! You're back, you're back!" She said delightedly, tears streaming from her eyes. "I can't believe it. You're really here." She wiped off her face, realizing how horrible she must look because she had been sleeping, and now she was crying.

"I'm sorry," she said, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. "I told myself I wouldn't cry, or else I'd ruin my makeup." He laughed out loud at her last comment, and pulled her into another kiss, this one more passionate than the last. They pulled away after a moment or two, and he looked at her smiling face.

"It's so good to be back," he said, staring into her eyes.

"It's good to have you back," she said.

"Now, there's only one thing left to do," he said.

"Get married?" she guessed.

"Well, yes." he admitted. "There's that, of course. But something else."

"Tell the rest of the family you're here?"

"Um, yes, that too," he said. "But something _else_."

"Tell me, Iroh," she said. "I've run out of things to guess."

"Have a nice, refreshing cup of tea!" he said, completely serious.

She could only stare at him for a second or two, and then she burst out laughing. He watched her carefully, glad that his comment had the desired effect. There, he thought to himself. The little space in between her two front teeth. It was still there. Everything was going to be just like old times, he told himself. Better, even. When she was done laughing, he pulled her close and stared into her eyes.

"Everything's going to be just perfect," he said. She looked into his eyes and noticed the sparkle. Yes, it was still there. Just like when they were younger.

"Perfect," she echoed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Just perfect."


	14. Chapter 14

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

**_T_**he next day, Iroh and Maylin were married late in the afternoon. It had taken a while for everything to be prepared, and the wedding ended up being a small one, with only family members and a few close friends attending, but it didn't matter to either the bride or the groom. After twenty years of being best friends, and eight years of being lovers, they could finally add another name for themselves to their list -- husband and wife.

That night, the two of them lay in Iroh's bed -- which they now considered _their_ bed -- and stayed up talking the entire night. After eight years of being apart, they had a lot to catch up on, even though they had been sending letters to each other the entire time. Iroh recounted stories of what it was like to be in the war, all the places he'd been and people he'd seen, and how sometimes at night the battlefield still haunted his dreams. But he'd gotten used to it by now.

Maylin told him stories of how her brother, a year or two after he left town on the support of Maylin and Iroh, had become a successful mapmaker and started his own business. He didn't even have to travel to be able to do his job, all he needed were old maps with updates scrawled on them, and he created new ones that sold by the hundreds. She told him of all the little adventures she had while living at the palace, whether they were significant and exciting or not, and all the major milestones in Ozai's life that Iroh had missed up to that point. She told him of how she had taken up the hobby of sewing, and chances were, any outfit that you saw young Ozai in was made by her. She told of how no matter what she did to the recipe, she couldn't get the chef's tea to taste exactly the way Iroh made it, and he both surprised and delighted her by making her a cup of it right then and there, in the middle of the night.

The two reminisced about their childhood, and their memories put together spanned for the twenty years they had known each other. When Iroh couldn't remember something, Maylin was right there ready to tell him how it happened; and when Maylin was unsure if a certain event happened this way or that, Iroh was prepared with the details, filling in the blanks for her. The two realized that when they were together, they were more than just husband and wife, or best friends; they were two parts of one whole.

They stayed up so late talking that night, that they slept right through breakfast and even lunch. Dinner was being prepared downstairs when Ilah finally barged into the room and gently urged them to wake up, or they'd never be able to go back to sleep when nighttime rolled around again. They obliged to her wishes, and were glad they did, because dinner that night was delicious; exactly what they loved, because the old chef had made it in their honor.

Life seemed to go perfectly and smoothly for the next two years that Iroh was home, as if someone who loved to see them have a good time had planned their life just so. It was sad and tearful when Iroh had to leave to join his unit in the army again, but he promised he'd be back soon, saying that if the general promoted him like he said he might, it would be easier for him to acquire another leave of absence for a while.

Sure enough, Iroh was promoted more than once throughout his service in the army, being able to come home virtually whenever he wanted to, provided he served enough time before asking to go back to the palace. Maylin became used to his constant moving back and forth between the palace and the army, but it still warmed her heart immensely whenever she saw him walking that dusty road that led to the palace.

One thing that didn't go so smoothly for the young couple was the issue of having a child. At first it didn't bother them so much, but after six years and still no children, Maylin and Iroh began to worry. Their fears were worsened one day when Iroh was called to Fire Lord Azulon's chambers.

"Son," said the Fire Lord, his voice instilling some fear in Iroh. "You do realize that if Maylin does not give birth to a child, your bloodline will end?"

"Yes, Father," Iroh replied. "I understand."

"This does not take away your birthright to the throne," Azulon explained. "But when you die, it will be passed onto Ozai, and then onto his children." Ozai was not married yet, but after he did find a wife and have some children, the throne would be passed onto them.

Iroh bowed in both reverence and understanding before leaving his father's throne room. It didn't bother him so much that the throne would be taken away from him; at this point all he wanted was a family. He was already thirty-two years old and still didn't have any children. Neither him nor his wife were getting any younger. And there was still the possibility that he would die in battle. He didn't want to leave Maylin so early in life both without a husband or any children.

Things started to turn around the next year. Maylin woke up one morning feeling nauseous and feverish. After a couple of weeks and an examination or two with a doctor and a visit to the midwife, it was announced she was pregnant. Iroh and Maylin were ecstatic, and Ilah was delighted for them as well as herself; it meant she was going to be a grandmother.

All the necessary preparations were made within the next nine months. A new room was furnished, new clothes and toys were picked out, and celebratory parties were thrown. Finally, almost exactly nine months later, on a cold, rainy night, Maylin gave birth to a baby boy.

The baby was healthy. Maylin, who was thirty-one at the time of the delivery, was not. She had lost a lot of blood in the process, and the doctors weren't sure she was going to make it. She drifted in and out of consciousness for the next two days, and for those forty-eight hours Iroh never left her side. He named the baby Lu Ten, for that was the name they agreed on had the baby been a boy, which it was. And even though some fathers would have shunned the baby, thinking it was the cause of the wife's sickness, Iroh loved him just the same.

On the third day, very early in the morning, Iroh found himself dozing off to sleep while sitting beside Maylin's bedside and keeping an eye on Lu Ten, who was sleeping in the crib next to him. Just as his eyes started to close, he heard a weak voice start talking.

"Iroh … what time is it?" His head shot up and he stared at her for a second before smiling.

"You're awake," he said.

"Mm," she said, nodding, for she still felt rather weak. "Where is the baby?" She suddenly asked, and her eyebrows knit into a furrow.

"It's okay," Iroh said, standing up to lift Lu Ten out of the crib. "He's right here." He placed the baby in her arms, and she stared at him lovingly.

"It's a boy," Iroh explained, thinking that maybe she had forgotten. The midwife told her after she delivered it, but Maylin had passed out not long after.

She only nodded, saying, "Lu Ten."

"Yes," Iroh responded. "Our child."

"Our baby," Maylin said, the color slowly coming back to her face. She looked up at Iroh. "We have a baby." She hugged the small bundle close to her chest, listening to his steady breathing. "Has the family seen him yet?"

"No," Iroh admitted. "He's been in here with me and you for the past two days. I've been--"

"Two days?" Maylin said, her eyes widening. "Have I been sleeping for two days?"

"You were unconscious," Iroh said, flinching as he said the words.

"Unconscious …" she said, the color draining from her face again. "And you've been here the whole time?"

"Yes,"

"With Lu Ten?"

"Yes," he said. "It's okay. The midwife is still here. She would feed the baby and take care of him. And I've been helping."

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head.

"Maylin, it's not your fault," he said, smiling a little bit. "Besides, you're awake now. Everything's okay. We'll be just fine."

"Is Lu Ten okay?" Maylin asked, her voice sounding concerned.

"Yes, he's fine. The midwife said he was very healthy."

"Good," Maylin said, gently kissing her baby on his head.

-----------------------------

Maylin never fully recovered from her difficult birth. A month or two later, she developed a horrible cough that could not be suppressed by anything. Always commenting that she was tired, the young woman would go to bed early and wake up late the next morning. One day she woke up and felt so feverish, that she couldn't even get out of bed.

"Iroh … what's wrong with me?" she one day after having a coughing fit that lasted for five minutes. "Why can't I get better?"

He didn't answer. There was nothing he could say that would bring comfort to her.

"Where's Lu Ten?" she asked.

"He's with Ilah," Iroh responded.

"I want to hold him," she said, tears coming to her eyes.

"Maylin, you're sick," Iroh said, his heart lurching inside of him. "We wouldn't want Lu Ten to get sick."

"I won't get him sick," she said, starting to cry. "He's my baby…"

Iroh could only sit back and watch her as she sobbed into the pillows, knowing there was nothing he could do.

Maylin's sickness lasted for two years, worsening as time went on. Starting in November of her thirty-third year, she became bedridden. Iroh only left her side when it was absolutely necessary, and Lu Ten was only allowed to see her when she wasn't coughing.

One late night, near the end of December, Maylin woke up and started coughing. Iroh, who was asleep in a chair beside her bed, immediately woke up as well, and held out a handkerchief to her mouth. She leaned forward, tears coming out of her eyes, and he reached out to pat her back.

"It's okay," he said. "Breathe…"

When she stopped coughing, she leaned back, groaning in pain. He took the handkerchief and folded it up. It was covered in blood.

Glancing at her, he couldn't help but notice how pale her face was, and how dark the bags were under her eyes. She looked so thin nowadays, as if she hadn't eaten in weeks. But he still loved her just the same.

Sighing lightly, Maylin opened her eyes and looked at Iroh. He noticed her breath had become shallow.

"It's been perfect … just like you said," she commented, referring to the day he returned from the war -- the day before they got married.

Sorrow drew an expression on his face, and he wondered how she could say such a thing when the last two years of her life had been horrible. He reached out to take her hand, despite having been told by various doctors and midwives to stay away from her; they didn't know what disease she harbored and they couldn't tell if it was contagious or not. He assumed it wasn't, though, since no one else in the palace was getting sick.

"It's going to get better," he said. "You'll see."

"For you," she responded, her voice barely above a whisper.

"And you, too," he insisted.

She calmly shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm done."

"Don't say that," he said, his voice getting louder.

"It's been a wonderful twenty-nine years of knowing you," she said.

"And we'll make it to thirty," he said. "And thirty-five … forty, fifty…"

"Iroh…" she said calmly. "When they burn me, I want your letters. Each one of them. I want them to go with me."

Tears brimmed his eyes, and he could only nod in response, for if he started to speak, he would certainly cry.

"I want to see him. Lu Ten." She said, her voice failing.

"I'm not going to leave you," he said, worried of what might happen if he should leave.

"I'll be fine," she said. "Go get him."

Iroh stood up and walked out of the room as fast as he could, breaking into a run once he reached the hallway. He searched everywhere for Lu Ten, and brought him back into Maylin's room, silently crying the entire time.

-----------------------------

"Mother?" the two-year-old Lu Ten asked, pointing to the stiff figure of Maylin as she lay on a large stone table, a bundle of Iroh's letters resting beneath her hands.

"Yes, son," Iroh responded, looking up to the bleak, January sky.

"Maylin," a deep man's voice boomed. "Wife of Iroh for nine years. Mother of Lu Ten. Daughter of …"

Iroh tuned the man's voice out as he held his son in his strong arms. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as a cold, winter breeze blew through the area. The tiny boy he held struggled to find a comfortable position, and finally turned his face towards his father.

"Is mother sleeping?" the young boy asked.

"Yes," Iroh responded. "She is."

"Will she wake up soon?"

"I'm afraid not," his father said. "But one day we'll see her again."

"Soon?" Lu Ten questioned.

"I don't know, son," he said, watching his son's eyes fill with confusion. "We just have to wait."

-----------------------------

Iroh stirred in his sleep, a grievous dream overtaking his mind. The images of his wife's funeral that happened so many years ago slowly faded away though, as he came back into consciousness and opened his eyes. After waiting for them to adjust, he realized he was staring at the blank, white wall of the infirmary. Yawning, he turned on his side and closed his eyes again, hoping that maybe he could go back to sleep. After all, it was still rather dark outside. The sun hadn't begun to rise just yet.

A strange feeling overcame him, and he opened his eyes again, only to be greeted by the flowing figure of a woman's dress. Looking up, he saw a young woman holding a boy of three or four years old. The corners of her mouth turned up slowly as she smiled at him.

"Hello," she said, shifting the young boy from one hip to the other. He rested his head on the woman's shoulder, staring at Iroh with peaceful eyes.

"Hello," he responded, sitting up in his bed.

"I've been waiting," she commented, holding out her slim and dainty hand. He just stared at her hand for a moment, a knowing smile spreading across his face.

"I know," he responded. "I've been waiting, as well."

"Are you ready?" her soft voice asked him.

"Yes," he said after a second of silence. "I believe so."

He reached out and placed his hand in hers. She gripped it firmly, smiling at him widely as she helped him up. His eyes went from her hand and traveled up her arm, stopping to rest on her face. His eyes sparkled with pleasure when he noticed a small, narrow space in between her two front teeth.


	15. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

Fire Lord Zuko sat on a bench outside, doing nothing as the breeze blew through his hair, playfully pushing and shoving it in every direction. Several people came up to him to offer their condolences, but he just sent them on their way with a hoarse voice, barely even giving them a glance. The doctor came up and offered a word.

"I'm sorry," he said without much emotion. "I know I told you a week at most. I hadn't expected…" he trailed off, and an awkward silence followed. He cleared his throat and said, "It was a lovely funeral."

_If you could call a funeral 'lovely'. _Zuko thought bitterly to himself.

"I'm not sure exactly what it would do for you, but …" the doctor rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a small object. "We found this in his pocket. I thought maybe you would want it." Zuko looked up for the first time since the man had approached him and held out his hand. The doctor dropped the object in, saying, "Good-day, Fire Lord Zuko." With that he brusquely walked off, pulling his robes around him tightly as the wind picked up.

Zuko opened his hand to examine the object. It was a small stone carved into the shape of a heart. Turning it over in his hands, the Fire Lord wondered if this was what his uncle had taken out of the hollow of the old tree that one day. If so, it was probably connected to Maylin somehow. He pulled out the medium-sized box that was full of her letters, and placed the stone heart on top of them all. Closing the lid carefully, he told himself that one day he would go through and read all of those letters.

Looking up to the sky, his thoughts wandered back to his uncle. "You said you would tell me," he said, his voice sounding perhaps more bitter than he meant it to sound. "But now you can't. No one can. Not anymore."

"Tell you what?"

Zuko whipped his head around when he heard the strange voice address him. His eyes laid to rest on an old man who hobbled up to Zuko and took a seat on the bench next to him. The Fire Lord eyed him suspiciously, wondering if this man had been present at the funeral.

"You're his nephew, aren't you?" the old man questioned, although by the looks of his expression it was obvious he already knew the answer.

"Yes," Zuko replied.

"And that," the old man said, pointing with his cane at the box Zuko held in his hands. "That's her box, isn't it? Filled with her letters?"

Putting a hand over the box, as if to protect it, Zuko answered, "If by 'her' you mean my aunt, then yes."

The old man nodded, switching his gaze from Zuko's face to the western sky. "I imagine he's with her again."

The Fire Lord merely nodded, assuming he was talking about his uncle and Maylin. He hadn't thought of it that way before, but he supposed the old man was right. It made his uncle's death a little easier to bear.

Turning his head to glance at the old man, Zuko asked, "Who are you?"

"I've been called a lot of things," the old man answered, a smile spreading across his face. "A bully, an idiot, a cheater …" he smiled when he saw a look of confusion cross Zuko's face. "That's what your uncle called me, at least." Leaning back in the bench, the old man continued. "By others I've been called brother, son, a deserter … a cartographer."

Zuko turned his head and rolled his eyes in frustration. He hadn't asked this old man who he was to have a rambling, indirect answer.

"But you can call me a storyteller. Or rather, a truth-teller."

"Truth-teller?" Zuko asked, turning to look at the old man again. He squinted his eyes in concentration, trying to read the old man's expression. "Did you know my aunt?"

"You could say that," the old man replied, nodding. "The same blood runs through our veins."

A smile spread across Zuko's face as the realization finally hit him. Standing up, he held out his hand and helped the old man off the bench.

"Would you like to come into the palace?" he asked as he led the man towards the large building. "And tell me about Maylin?"

"It'd be my pleasure," the old man responded.

Just before entering the palace, Zuko let the old man hobble in first, and he stopped for a second, focusing his gaze on the sun as it slowly set in the west.

"You knew this would happen somehow, didn't you?" The Fire Lord asked. "You knew the story wouldn't die out," Turning around to go inside, Zuko smiled to himself.

Of course he knew.

He always did.

_**The End**_


End file.
